

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 


Shelf 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



« 






/• 


t 


I ' ' 


I 




f 


« 


J 


% 



y 


4 



« 






• O 


>5 



% 


/ 






•'f 






;< 





# 


I 





-- * 






i 


•t 


* 


* 


♦ ) 


« • 



I 



§ 




« 


I 

I 


1 1 , . , 


'i' 4 I 'W , 

' ■ *. 

' % I 








f 


) ►-. 





ft 




ft 




•• I 





[>. 8S7. I>OUBL.¥: IV UMBER. 


PRICE SO CEIVTS, 



17 TO zj VaNdeWater St 

E wToi\i^' 






Frighted 1886 by George 






THE KING OF STORY PAPERS. 


THE 

NEW YORK FIRESIDE COMPANION. 

A PAPER FOB THE HOME CIRCLE. 

pure/ bright and interesting. 


THE FIRESIDE COMPANION numbers among its contributors the 
best of living'" fiction writers. Its Detective Stories are the most absorbing 
ever published, and its specialties are features peculiar to this journal. 

A Fresh Sermon by Rev. T. De Witt Talmage is 
Published in Every Number. 


THE FIRESIDE COMPANION is the most interesting weekly paper 
published in the United States, embracing in its contents the best Stories, 
the best Sketches, the best Humorous Matter, Random Talks, Fashion 
Articles, and Answers, to Correspondents, etc. No expense is spared to 
get the best matter. 

Among the contributors to The Fireside Companion are Mary E. 
Bryan, Lucy Randall Comfort, Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller, Laura Jean 
Libbey, “ Old Sleuth,” Charlotte M. Braeme, author of “ Dora Thorne,” 
Mary C. Freston, Annabel Dwight, Clyde Raymond, Kate A. Jordan, 
Louise J. Brooks, Charlotte M. Stanley, etc. 


TERMS:— The New York Fireside Companion will be sent for one 
year, on receipt of $3: two copies for $5. Getters-up of clubs can after- 
ward add single copies at $2.50 each. We will be responsible for remit- 
tances sent in Registered Letters or by Post-office Money Orders. Postage 
free. Specimen copies sent free. 

Address GEORGE MUNRO, 

P. O. Box 3751 . MUNRO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

17 to 27 Vandewater St., and 45 to 53 Rose St., New York. 



LADIES! 


tf you appreciate a Corset that will neither break down nor roll up trt W'ecw 
TRY BALL’S CORSETS. 

If you value health and comfort, 

WEAR BALL’S CORSETS. 

If you desire a Corset tliat fits the first day you wear it, and needs no 
* breaking in,” 

BUY HALL’S CORSETS. 

If you desire a Corset that yields with ever3' motion of the body, 
EXAMINE BALL’S CORSETS. 

If you want a perfect fit and support without compression, 

USE BALL’S CORSETS. 

Owing to their peculiar construction it is impossible to break steels in 
Call's Corsets. 

The Elastic Sections in Ball’s Corsets contain no rubber, and are warranted 
t ' out wear the Corset. 

Everv pair sold with the following guarantee: 

“If not perfectly satisfactory in every respect after three weeks’ 
trial, the money paid for them will be refunded (by the dealer), 

Soiled or Uusoiled.'* 


The wonderful popularity of Ball’s Corsets has induced rival manu^ 
facturers to imitate them. If you want a Corset that will give perfect satis- 
faction, insist on purchasing one marked. 

Patented Feb. 22 , 1881 , 

And see that the name BALL is on the box; also Guarante? of the 

Chicago Corset Co. 

AWARDED HIGHEST PRIZES WHEREVER EXHIBITED. 

¥'or l>y all l.eartiag- l>i*y Ooo«l!$ l>ealer><* in tlie 

United !i<itaae!^, t’a^nada and Ung^land. 


BLOOD 1$ THICKER THAN WATER: 


A FEW DAYS AMONG 

OUR SOUTHERN BRETHREN, 

BY HENRY 31. FIELD, D.D., 

Author of “ From the Lakes of Killarney to the Golden Horn," “ From Egypt 
to Japan" "On the Desert" "Among the Holy Hills," and 
“ The Greek Islands, and Turkey after the War." 


Of Doctor Field’s new book the New York Observer says: “ Doctor Field has 
written many good books of travel in foreign lands; but this little book of 
letters from our own United States, and which he has called ‘ Blood is Thicker 
THAN Water,’ will be judged by many to be the best of all.” 

The New York Inde^oendent says: ” The volume has a large part of its charm 
in the fact that it is brimming over with reminiscences of the war, pictures of 
battles succeeded by peace, with handshakings of Federals and Confederates, 
all content now to belong to one general United States. Doctor Field has suc- 
ceeded wonderfully in investing with rare interest a somewhat prosaic and 
common tour by connecting it with the high sentiments of patriotism and na- 
tional faith. While the volume is written for the ordinary intelligent reader, 
may we venture to remark that it is just such a book as we would like to put iu 
the hands of the young; and which, though not professedly a religious book, 
we should be very glad to have shove out of the Sunday-school Library many 
more pious but really less Christian and less useful volumes.” 

The New York World says: ‘‘Doctor Field’s brilliant descriptions of the 
scenes visited, his reminiscences of the Avar, taken from the lips of ex-Confeder- 
ate officers, the vivid contrast he draAvs between the horrors of battle and the 
present plenty and contentment of peace and prosperity, delight the reader 
and lead to the regret that the volume is not tAvice as long as it is. . . . It is 
not merely a pleasing book of travel; it is a volume Avhich should have a Avide 
influence in further cementing the bonds Avhich noAv hold the north and south 
together iu the strength and affection of indissoluble union.” 


For Sale by all Booksellers and Newsdealers. 

PRICE 25 CENTS. 


Sent by mail, postage free, on receipt of 25 cents. Address, 

GEORGE MUNRO, 

MUNRO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 

ly to ‘A7 Vaimlewater Street, New YorRr 


A Modern Telemachus. 



CHARLOTTE M. YONGE. 

>) 





NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO. PUBLISHER,* 


17 TO 27 Vanokavater Street. 



> 


CHARLOTTE M. YONGE^S WORKS 


CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION): 


PRICE. 


247 The Armourer’s Prentices 


10 


275 The Three Brides 10 

585 Henrietta’s Wish 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Sliield 20 

640 Nuttie’s Father . . . . ■ . . . . 20 

665 Tlie Dove in the Eagle’s Nest 20 

666 My Young Alcides 20 

739 The Caged Lion 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls; or, The WTiite and Black Ri- 

baumont. First half 20 

790 The C’haplet of Pearls; or, The AYhite and Black Ri- 

baumont. Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes from the Life of a Spinster. 

Second half .20 

887 A Modern Telemachus 20 


e 


The idea of this tale was taken from “ The Mariners^ 
Chronicle, compiled by a person named Scott early in the 
last century — a curious book of narratives of maritime ad- 
ventures, with exceedingly quaint illustrations. Nothing 
has ever shown me more plainly that truth is stranger than 
fiction, for all that is most improbable here is the actual 
fact. 

The Comte de Bourke was really an Irish Jacobite, nat- 
uralized in France, and married to the daughter of the Mar- 
quis de Varennes, as well as in high favor with the Marshal 
Duke of Berwick. 

In 1719, just when the ambition of Elizabeth Farnese, 
the second wife of Philip V. of Spain, had involved that 
country in a war with England, France, and Austria, the 
count was transferred from the Spanish Embassy to that of 
Sweden, and sent for his wife and two elder children to 
join him at a Spanish port. 

- This arrangement was so strange that I can only account 
for it by supposing that as this was the date of a feeble 
Spanish attempt on behalf of the Jacobites in Scotland, 
Comte de Bourke may not have ventured by the direct 
route. Or it may not have been etiquette for him to re- 
enter France when appointed embassador. At any rate, 
the poor countess did take this route to the South, and I 
am inclined to think the narrative must be correct, as all 
the side-lights I have been able to gain perfectly agree with 
it, often in an unexpected manner. 

The suite and the baggage were just as related in the 
gtory — the only liberty I have taken being the bestowal of 
names. ‘‘ M. Arture was really of the party, but I have 
made him Scotch instead of Irish, and I have no knowledge 
that the lackey was not French. The imbecility of the 
abbe is merely a deduction from his helplessness, but of 
course this may have been caused by illness. 


/ 


vi PKEFACE. 

The meeting with M. de Varennesat Avignon, Berwick's 
offer of an escort, and the countess’s dread of the Pyrenees, 
are all facts, as well as her embarkation in the Genoese 
tartane bound for Barcelona, and its capture by the Alger- 
ine corsair commanded ^y a Dutch renegade, who treated 
her well, and to whom she gave her watch. 

Algerine history confirms what is said of his treatment. 
Louis XIV. had bombarded the pirate city, and compelled 
the Dey to receive a consul and to liberate French prison- 
ers and French property; but the lady having been taken 
in an Italian ship, the Dutchman was afraid to set her 
ashore without first taking her to Algiers, lest he should fall 
under suspicion. He would not venture on taking so many 
women on board his own vessel, being evidently afraid of 
his crew of more than two hundred Turks and Moors, but 
sent seven men on board the prize and took it in tow. 

Curiously enough, history mentions the very tempest 
which drove the tartane apart from her captor, for it also 
shattered the French transports and interfered with Ber- 
wick ’s Spanish campaign. 

The circumstances of the wreck have been closely fol- 
lowed. ‘‘ M. Arture” actually saved Mile, de Bourke, and 
placed her in the arms of the mattre d^hdtel, who liad 
reached a rock, together with the abbe, the lackey, and 
one out of the four maids. The other three were all in the 
cabin with their mistress and her son, and shared their 
fate. 

The real “ Arture ” tried to swim to the shore, but never 
was seen again, so that his adventures with the littl^ boy 
are wholly imaginary. But the little girl’s conduct is per- 
fectly true. When in the steward’s arms she declared that 
the savages might take her life, but never should make her 
deny her faith. 

The account of these captors was a great difficulty, till 
in the old “ Universal History ” I found a description of 
Algeria which tallied wonderfully with the narrative. It 
was taken from a survey of the coast made a few years 
later by English officials. 

The tribe inhabiting Mounts Araz and Couco, and bor- 
dering on Djigheli Bay, were really wild Arabs, claiming, 
high descent, but very loose Mohammedans, and savage in 
their habits. Their name of Cabeleyzes is said— with what 
truth I know not— to mean “ revolted,” and they held 


PREFACE. 


Vll 


themselves independent of the Dey. They were in the 
habit of murdering or enslaving all shipwrecked travelers, 
except subjects of Algiers, whom they released with nothing 
but their lives. 

All this perfectly explains the sufferings of Mile, de 
Bourke. The, history of the plundering, the threats, the 
savage treatment of the corpses, the wild dogs, the councils 
of the tribe, the separation of the captives, and the child^s 
heroism, is all literally true — the expedient of Victorine^s 
defense alone being an invention. It is also true that the 
little girl and the maitre cVliotel wrote four letters, and sent 
them by different chances to Algiers, but only the last ever 
arrived, and it created a great sensation. 

M. Bessault is a real personage, and the kindness of the 
Dey and of the Moors was exactly as related, also the ex- 
pedient of sending the Marabout of Bugia to negotiate. 

Mr. Thomas Thompsop was really the English consul at 
the time, but his share in the matter is imaginary, as it de- 
pends on Arthur’s adventures. 

The account of the Marabout system comes from the 
‘‘Universal History;” but the arrival, the negotiations, 
and the desire of the sheyk to detain the young French lady 
for a wife to his son, are from the narrative. He really did 
claim to be an equal match for her, were she daughter of 
the King of France, since he was King of the Mountains. 

The welcome at Algiers and the Te Deuminthe consul’s 
chapel also are related in the book that serves me for 
authority. It adds that Mile, de Bourke finally married a 

Marquis de B , and lived much respected in Provence, 

dying shortly before the Revolution. 

I will only mention further that a rescued Abyssinian 
slave named Fareek (happily not tongueless) was well 
known to me many years •ago in the household of the late 
Warden Barter of Winchester College. 

Since writing the above I have by the kindness of friends 
been enabled to discover Mr. Scott’s authority, namely, a 
book entitled “ Voyage pour la Redemption des captifs 
aux Royaumes d’Alger et de Tunis, fait en 1720 par 
les P. P. Francois Comelin, Philemon de la Motte, et 
Joseph Bernard, de I’Ordre de la Sainte Trinite, dit 
Mathurine. This order was established by Jean Matha for 
the ransom and rescue of prisoners in the hands of the 
Moors. A translation of the adventures of the Comtesse 


Vlll 


PREFACE. 


de Bourke and her daughter was published in the ‘ ‘ Catholic 
World/’ New York, July 1881. It exactly agrees with the 
narration in ‘‘ The Mariners’ Chronicle ” except that, in 
the true spirit of the eighteenth century, Mr. Scott thought 
fit to suppress that these ecclesiastics were at Algiers at the 
time of the arrival of Mile, de Bourke’s letter, that they in- 
terested themselves actively on her behalf, and that they 
wrote the narrative from the lips of the maitre cVliotel (who 
indeed may clearly be traced throughout). It seems also 
that the gold cups were chalices, and that a complete set 
of altar equipments fell a prey to the Cabeleyzes, whose 
name the good fathers endeavor to connect with Cahale — 
with about as much reason as if we endeavored to derive 
that word from the ministry of Charles II. 

Had I known in time of the assistance of these benevolent 
brethren I would certainly have introduced them with all 
due honor, but, like the Abbe Vertot, I have to say, Mon 
Mstoire est ecrite, and what is worse — printed. Moreover, 
they do not seem to have gone on the mission with the 
Marabout from Bugia, so that their presence really only ac- 
counts for the Te Deum with which the redeemed captives 
were welcomed. 

It does not seem quite certain whether M. Dessault was 
consul or envoy; I incline to think the latter. The trans- 
lation in the “ Catholic World ” speaks of Sir Arthur, but 
Mr. Scott’s “ M. Arture” is much more vraisemhlable. 
He probably had either a surname to be concealed or else 
unpronounceable to French lips. Scott must have had 
some further information of the after history of Mile, de 
Bourke since he mentions her marriage, which could hardly 
have taken place when P^re Comelin’s book was published 
in 1720. 


C. M. YONGE. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


CHAPTER I. 

COMPANIONS OF THE VOYAGE. 

Make mention thereto 

Touching my much loved father’s safe return, 

If of his whereabouts I may best hear. 

Odyssey (Musgrave.) 

‘‘Oh! brother, I wish they ha'd named you Telemaque, 
and then it would have been all right 

“ Why so, sister? Why should I be called by so ugly a 
name? I like Ulysses much better; and it is also the name 
of my papa. 

“ That is the very thing. His name is Ulysses, and we 
are going to seek for him.'’^ 

“Oh! I hope that cruel old Mentor is not coming to tum- 
ble us down over a great rock, like Telemaque in the j)ict- 
ure. ” 

“ You mean Pere le Brun?’^ 

“ Yes; you know he always says he is our Mentor! And 
I wish he would change into a goddess with a helmet and a 
shield, with an ugly face, and gooff in a cloud. Do you 
tliink he will, Estelle? 

“ DonT be so silly, Ulick; there are no goddesses now. 

“ I heard Monsieur de la Mode tell that pretty lady with 
the diamond butterfly that she was his goddess; so there 
are!^’ 

“ You do not understand, brother. That was only flat- 
tery and compliment. Goddesses were only in the Greek 
mythology, and were all over long ago!^'’ 

“ But are we really going to see our papa?^^ 

“ Oh yes, mamma told me so. He is made Embassador 
to Sweden, you know.^^ 

“ Is that greater than Envoy to Spain ?^^ 

“ Very, very much greater. They call mamma Madame 


10 


A MODERif TELEMACHUS. 


TEmbassadrice; and she is having three complete new 
dresses made. 8ee, there are la tonne and Laurent talk- 
ing. It is English, and if we go near with our cups and 
balls we shall hear all about it. Laurent always knows, 
because my uncle tells him.'’^ 

You must call him La Jemiesse now he is made mam- 
mals lackey. Is he not beautiful in his new livery?^'’ 

Be still now, brother; I want to hear what they are 
saying. 

This may sound somewhat sly, but French children, be- 
fore Eousseau had made them the fashion, were kept in the 
background, and were reduced to picking up intelligence as 
best they could without any sense of its being dishonorable 
to do so; and, indeed, it was more neglect than desire of 
concealment that left them uninformed. 

This was in 1719, four years after the accession of Louis 
XV.', a puny infant, to the French throne, and in the midst 
of the regency of the Luke of Orleans. The scene was a 
broad walk in the Tuileries gardens, beneath a closely 
clipped wall of greenery, along which were disposed alter- 
nately basts upon pedestals, and stone vases of flowers, 
while beyond lay formal beds of flowers, the gravel walks 
between radiating from a fountain, at present quiescent, 
for it was only ten oVIock in the forenoon, and the gardens 
were chiefly frequented at that hour by children and their 
attendants, who, like Estelle and Ulysses de Bourke, were 
taking an early walk on their way home from mass. 

They were a miniature lady and gentleman of the period 
in costume, with the single exception that, in consideration 
of their being only nine and seven years old, their hair was 
free from powder. Estelle ^s light, almost flaxen locks were 
brushed back from her forehead, and tied behind with a 
rose-colored ribbon, but uncovered, except by a tiny lace 
cap on the crown of her head; Ulick’s darker hair was care- 
fully arranged in great curls on his back and shoulders, as 
like a full-bottomed wig as nature would jiermit, and over 
it he wore a little cocked hat edged with gold lace. He 
had a rich laced cravat, a double-breasted waistcoat of pale 
blue satin, and breeches to match, a brown velvet coat with 
blue embroidery on the pockets, collar, and skirts, silk 
stockings to match, as well as the knot of the tiny scabbard 
of the semblance of a sword at his side, shoes with silver 
buckles, and altogether he might have been a full-grown 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


11 


comte or viscomte seen through a diminishing glass. His 
sister was in a full-hooped dress, with tight long waist, and 
sleeves reaching to her elbows, the underskirt a pale pink, 
the upper a deeper rose color; but stiff as was the attire, 
she had managed to give it a slight general air of disar- 
rangement, to get her cap a little on one side, a stray curl 
loose on her forehead, to tear a bit of the dangling lace on 
her arms, and to splash her robe with a puddle. He was 
in air, feature, and complexion a perfect little dark 
Frenchman. The contour of her face, still more its rosy 
glow, were more in accordance with her surname, and so 
especially were the large deep blue eyes with the long dark 
lashes and penciled brows. And there was a lively restless 
air about her full of intelligence, as she maneuvered her 
brother toward a stone seat, guarded by a couple of cupids 
reigning in sleepy-looking lions in stone, where, under the 
shade ' of a lime-tree, her little petticoated brother of two 
years old was asleep, cradled in the lap of a large, portly, 
handsome woman, in a dark dress, a white cap and apron, 
and dark crimson cloak, loosely put back, as it was an 
August day. Native costumes were then, as now, always 
worn by French nurses; but this was not the garb of any 
province of the kingdom, and was as Irish as the brogue in 
which she was conversing with the tall fine young man who 
stood at ease beside her. He was in a magnificent green 
and gold livery suit, his hair powdered, and fastened in a 
qiieue, the whiteness contrasting with the dark brows, and 
the eyes and complexion of that fine Irish type that it is the 
fashion to call Milesian. He looked proud of his dress, 
which was viewed in those days as eminently becoming, and 
did in fact display his well-made figure and limbs to great 
advantage; but he looked anxiously about, and his first in- 
quiry on coming on the scene in attendance upon the little 
boy had been — 

“ The top of the morning to ye, mother! And where is 
Victorine?'’^ 

‘‘ Arrah, and what would ye want with Victorine?^^ de- 
manded the bonne. ‘‘ Is not the old mother enough for 
one while, to feast her eyes on her an^ Lanty Callaghan, 
now he has shed the marmiton^s slough, and come out in 
old Ireland's colors, like a butterfly from a palmer? La 
Jeunesse, instead of Laurent here, and Laurent there.’-' 

La Pierre and La Jeunesse were the stereotyped names 


12 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


of all pairs of lackeys in French noble houses, and the title 
was a mark of promotion; but Lanty winced and said, 
Have done with that, mother. You know that never the 
pot nor the kettle has blacked my fingers since Master 
Phelim went to the good fathers" school with me to carry 
his books and insinse him with the laming. "Tis all one, 
as his own body-servant that I have been, as was fitting for 
his own foster-brother, till now, when not one of the serv- 
ants, barring myself and Maitre Hebert, the steward, will 
follow Madame la Comtesse beyond the four walls of Paris. 

‘ Will you desert us too, Laurent?" says the lady. ‘ And 
is it me you mane, madame," says I, ‘ Sorrah a Callaghan 
ever deserted a Burke!" ‘ Then," says she, ' if you will go 
with us to Sweden, you shall have two lackey"s suits, and a 
couple of louts d'or to cross your pocket with by the year, 
forhye the fee and bounty of all the visitors to Monsieur le 
Comte." ‘ Is it Monsieur l"Abb6 goes with madame?" says 
I. ‘ And why not?" says she. ‘ Then," says I, ‘ "tis my- 
self that is mightily obliged to your ladyship, and am ready 
to put on her colors and do all in reason in her service, so 
as I am free to attend to Master Phelim, that is Monsieur 
PAbbe, whenever he needs me, that am in duty bound as 
his own foster-brother." ‘ Ah, Laurent," says she, ‘ "tis you 
that are the faithful domestic. We shall all stand in need 
of such good offices as we can- do to one another, for we 
shall have a long and troublesome, if not a dangerous jour- 
ney, both before and after we have met Monsieur le 
Comte. " "" 

Estelle here nodded her head with a certain satisfaction, 
while the nurse replied — 

And what other answer could the son of your father 
make — heavens be his bed — that was shot through the head 
by the masther"s side in the weary wars in Spain? and 
whom could ye be bound to serve barring Master Phelim, 
that"s lain in the same cradle with yees— "" 

“ Is not Victorine here, mother?"" still restlessly demand- 
ed Lanty. 

Never you heed Victorine,"" replied she. “ Sure she 
may have a little arrand of her own, and ye might have a 
word for the old mother that never parted with you be- 
fore."" 

‘‘ You not going, mother!"" he exclaimed. 

‘‘ "Tis my heart that will go with you and Masther 


A MODEKN TELEMACHUS. 


13 


Phelim, my jewel; but Madame la Comtesse will have it 
that this weeny little darlint — caressing the child in her 
lap — ‘‘ could never bear the cold of that bare and dissolute 
place in the north you are bound for, and old Madame la 
Marquise, her mother, would be mad entirely if all the 
children left her; but our own lady canH quit the little one 
without leaving his own nurse Honor with himl'^ 

‘‘ That^s news to me intirely, mother,^^ said Lanty; 

bad luck to it!^’ 

Honor laughed that half-proud, half-sad laugh of moth- 
ers when their sons outgrow them. “ Fine talking! Much 
he cares for the old mother if he can see the young girl go 
with him.'’^ 

For Lanty ^s eyes had brightened at sight of a slight little 
figure, trim to the last degree, with a jaunty little cap on 
her dark hair, gay trimmings to the black apron, dainty shoes 
and stockings that came tripping down the path. His 
tongue instantly changed to French from what he called 
English, as in pathetic insinuating modulations he de- 
manded how she could be making him weary his very heart 
out. 

‘‘ Who bade your^^ she retorted. “ I never asked you to 
waste your time here!^^ 

And will ye not give me a glance of the e 3 ^es that have 
made a cinder of my poor heart, when I am going away into 
the desolate north, among the bears and the savages and 
the heretics 

There will be plenty of eyes there to look at your fine 
green and gold, for the sake of the Paris cut; though a 
great lumbering fellow like you does not know how to show 
it off!^^ 

And if 1 bring back a heretic to break the heart of 
the mother, will it not be all the fault of the cruelty of 
Mademoiselle Yictorine?^^ 

Here Estelle, unable to withstand Lanty^s piteous intona- 
tions, broke in, ‘‘ Never mind, Laurent, Yictorine goes 
with us. She went to be measured for a new pair of shoes 
on purpose I 

Ah! I thought I should disembarrass myself of a great 
troublesome Irishman V’ 

“ No!^^ retorted the boy, “ you knew Laurent was going, 
for Maitre Hebert had just come in to say he must have a 
lackey ^s suit!^^ 


14 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


Yes/^ said Estelle, ‘‘ that was when you took me in 
your arms and kissed me, and said you would follow Ma- 
dame la Comtesse to the end of the world. 

The old nurse laughed heartily, but Victorine cried out, 
‘ ‘ Does mademoiselle think I am going to follow naughty 
little girls who invent follies? It is still free to me to 
change my mind. Poor Simon Olaquette is gnawing his 
heart out, and he is to be left concierge 

The clock at the palace chimed eleven, Estelle took her 
brother’s hand. Honor rose with little Jacques in her arms, 
Victorine paced beside her, and Lanty as Ja Jeunesse fol- 
lowed, pufiSng out his breast, and wielding his cane, as 
they all went home to dejeuner. 

Twenty-nine years before the opening of this narrative, 
just after the battle of Boyne Water had ruined the hopes 
of the Stewarts in Ireland, Sir Ulick Bourke had attended 
James 11. in his flight from Waterford; and his wife had 
followed him, attended by her two faithful servants, Patrick 
Callaghan, and his wife Honor, carrying her mistress’s child 
on her bosom, and her own on her back. 

Sir Ulick, or Le Chevalier Bourke, as the French called 
him, had no scruple in taking service in the armies of 
Louis XIV. Callaghan followed him everywhere, while 
Honor remained a devoted attendant on her lady, doubly 
bound to her by exile and sorrow. 

Little Ulick Burke’s foster-sister died, perhaps because 
she had always been made second to him through all the 
hardships and exposure of the journey. Other babes of 
both lady and nurse had succumbed to the mortality which 
beset the cliildren of that generation, and the only survivors 
besides the eldest Burke and one daughter were the two 
youngest of each mother, and they had arrived so nearly at 
the same time that Honor Callaghan could again be foster- 
mother to Phelim Burke, a sickly child, reared with great 
difficulty. 

The family were becoming almost French. Sir Ulick 
was an intimate friend of one of the noblest men of the day, 
James Fitz- James, Marshal Duke of Berwick, who united 
military talent, almost equal to that of his uncle of Marl- 
borough, to an unswerving honor and integrity very rare in 
those evil times. Under him, Sir Ulick fought in the cam- 
paigns that finally established the House of Bourbon upon 
the throne of Spain, and the younger Ulick or Ulysse, as 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


15 


his name had been classicalized and Frenchified, was mak- 
ing his first campaign as a mere boy at the time of the bat- 
tle of Almanza, that solitary British defeat, for which our 
national consolation is that the French were commanded 
by an Englishman, the Duke of Berwick, and the English 
by a Frenchman, the Huguenot Rubigne, Earl of Galway. 
The first English charge was, however, fatal to the Cheva- 
lier Bourke, who fell mortally wounded, and in the en- 
deavor to carry him off the field the faithful Callaghan 
likewise fell. Sir Ulick lived long enough to be visited by 
the duke, and to commend his children to his friend ^s pro- 
tection. 

Berwick was held to be dry and stiff, but he was a faith- 
ful friend, and well redeemed his promise. The eldest son, 
young as he was, obtained as wife the daughter of the Mar- 
quis de Varennes, and soon distinguished himself both in 
war and policy, so as to receive the title of Comte de 
Bourke. 

The French Church was called on to provide for the 
other two children. The daughter, Alice, became a nun 
in one of the Parisian convents, with promises of promo- 
tion. The younger son, Phelim, was weakly in health, and 
of intellect feeble, if not deficient, and was almost depend- 
ent on the devoted care and tenderness of his foster-broth- 
er, Laurence Callaghan. Nobody was startled when Ber- 
wick's interest procured for the dull boy of ten years old 
the Abbey of St. Eudoce in Champagne. To be sure the 
responsibilities were not great, for the abbey had been 
burned down a century and a half ago by the Huguenots, 
and there had never been any monks in it since, so the only 
effect was that little Phelim Burke went by the imposing 
title of Monsieur PAbbe de St. Eudoce, and his family en- 
joyed as much of the revenues of the estates of the abbey as 
the intendant thought proper to transmit to them. He 
was, to a certain degree, ecclesiastically educated, having 
mst memory enough to retain for recitation the tasks that 
La nty helped him to learn, and he could copy the themes 
or translations made for him by his faithful companion. 
Neither boy had the least notion of unfairness or deception 
in this arrangement: it was only the natural service of the 
one to the other, and if it were prceived in the fathers of 
the seminary, whither Lanty daily conducted the young 
abbot, they winked at it. Nor, though the quick-witted 


16 


A MODEEJST TELE5IACHUS. 


Lanty thus acquired a considerable amount of learning, no 
idea occurred to him of availing liimseK of it for his own 
advantage. It sat outside him, as it were, for ‘ Masther 
Phelim’s ^ use; and he no more thought of applying it to 
his own elevation than he did of wearing the soutane he 
brushed for his young master. 

The abbe was now five-and -twenty, had received the 
tonsure, and had been admitted to minor orders, but there 
was no necessity for him to proceed any further unless 
higher promotion should be accorded to him in recompense 
of his brother’s services. He was a gentle, amiable being, 
not at all fit to take care of himself; and since the death of 
his mother, he had been the charge of his brother and sis- 
ter-in-law, or perhaps more correctly speaking, of the 
Dowager Marquise de Varennes, for all the branches of the 
family lived together in the Hotel de Varennes at Paris, or 
its chdteau in the country, and the fine old lady ruled over 
all, her son and son-in-law being often absent, as was the 
case at present. 

A fresh European war had been provoked by the am- 
bition of the second wife of Philip V. of Spain, the pi’ince 
for whose cause Berwick had fought. This queen, Eliza- 
beth Farnese, wanted rank and dominion for her own son; 
moreover, Philip looked with longing eyes at his native 
kingdom of France, all claim to which he had resigned 
when Spain was bequeathed to him; but now that only a 
sickly child, Louis XV., stood between him and the succes- 
sion in right of blood, he felt his rights superior to those of 
the Duke of Orleans. Thus Spain was induced to become 
hostile to France, and to commence the war known as that 
of the Quadruple Alliance. 

While there was still hope of accommodation, the Comte 
de Bourke had been sent as a special envoy to Madrid, and 
there continued even after the war had broken out, and 
the Duke of Berwick, resigning all the estates he had re- 
ceived from the gratitude of Philip V., had led an army 
across the frontier. 

The count had, however, just been appointed embassador 
to Sweden, and was anxious to be joined by his family on 
the way thither. 

The tidings had created great commotion. Madame de 
Varennes looked on Sweden as an Ultima Thule of frost 
and snow, but knew that a lady’s presence was essential to 


A MODERiq- TELEMACHUS. 


17 


the display required of an embassador. She strove, how- 
ever, to have the children left with her; but her daughter 
declared that she could not part with Estelle, who was 
already a companion and friend, and that UJysse must be 
with his father, who longed for his eldest son, so that only 
little Jacques, a delicate child, was to be left to console his 
grandmother. 


CHAPTER II. 

A JACOBITE WAIF. 

Sae now lie’s o’er the floods sae gray, 

And Lord Maxwell has ta’en liis good-night. 

Lord Maxwell’s Good-night. 

Madame la Oomtesse de Boueke was by no means a 
helpless fine lady. She had several times accompanied her 
husband on his expeditions, and had only not gone with 
him to Madrid because he did not expect to be long absent, 
and she sorely rued the separation. 

She was very busy in her own room, superintending the 
packing, and assisting in.it, when her own clever fingers 
were more effective than those of her maids. She was in 
her rohe de chamhre, a dark blue wrapper, embroidered with 
white, and put on more neatly than was always the case 
with French ladies in deshabille. The hoop, long stiff 
stays, rich brocade robe, and fabric of powdered hair were 
Equally unsuitable to ease or exertion, and consequently 
were seldom assumed till late in the day, when the toilet 
was often made in public. 

So Mme. de Bourke^’s hair was simply rolled out of her 
way, and she appeared in her true colors, as a little brisk, 
bonny woman, with no actual beauty, but very expressive 
light gray eyes, furnished with intensely long iJlack lashes, 
and a sweet, mobile, lively countenance. 

Estelle was trying to amuse little Jacques, and prevent 
him from trotting between the boxes, putting all sorts of 
undesirable goods into them; and Ulysse liad collected his 
toys, and was pleading earnestly that a headless wooden 
horse and a kite, twice as tall as himself, of Lanty^s manu- 
facture, might go with them. 

He was told that another cerf-volant should be made for 
him at the journey’s end; but was only partially consoled. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


■ 

and his mother was fain to compound for a box of woolly 
lambs. Estelle winked away a tear when her doll was re- 
jected, a wooden, highly pain ted lady, bedizened in brocade, 
and so dear to her soul that it was hard to be told that she 
was too old for such toys, and that the Swedes would be 
shocked to see the embassador’s daughter embracing a doll. 
She had, however, to preserve her character of a reasonable 
child, and tried to derive consolation from the permission 
to bestow “ mademoiselle ” upon the concierge^ s little sick 
daughter, who would be sure to cherish her duly. 

‘‘ But, oh, mamma, I pray you to let me take my book!” 

Assuredly, my child. Let us see! What? ‘Tele- 
maque?’ Not ‘ Prince Percinet and Princess Gracieuse ’?” 

“ I am tired of them, mamma.” 

“ Nor Madame d’Aulnoy’s ‘Fairy Tales’?” 

“ Oh, no, thank you, mamma; I love nothing so well as 
Telemaque. ” 

“ Thou art a droll child!” said her mother. 

“ Ah, but we are going to be like Telemaque.” 

“ Heaven forfend!” said the poor lady. 

“ Yes, dear mamma, I am glad you are going with us 
instead of staying at home to weave and unweave webs. If 
Penelope had been like you, she would have gone!” 

“ Take care, is not Jacques acting Penelope?” said Mme. 
de Bourke, unable to help smiling at her little daughter’s 
glib mythology, while going to the rescue of the embroidery 
silks, in which her youngest son was entangling himself. 

At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a 
message was brought that the Countess of Nithsdale begged 
the favor of a few minutes’ conversation in private with 
madame. The Scottish title fared better on the lips of La 
Jeunesse than it would have done on those of his prede- 
cessor. There was considerable intimacy among all the 
Jacobite exiles in and about Paris; and Winifred, Countess 
of Nithsdale, though living a very quiet and secluded life, 
was held in high estimation among all who recollected the 
act of wifely heroism by which she had rescued her husband 
from the block. 

Mme. de Bourke bade the maids carry off the little 
Jacques, and Ulysse followed; but Estelle, who had often 
listened with rapt attention to the story of the escape, and 
longed to feast her eyes on the heroine, remained in her 
corner, usefully employed in disentangling the embroil- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. xi 

ment of silks, and with the illustrations to her beloved 
“ T61emaque as a resource in case the conversation should 
be tedious. Children who have hundreds of picture-books to 
rustle through can little guess how their predecessors could 
once dream over one. 

Estelle made her low reverence unnoticed, and watched 
with eager eyes as the slight figure entered, clad in the 
stately costume that was regarded as proper respect to her 
hostess; but the long loose sacque of blue silk was faded, the 
feuille-morte velvet petticoat frayed, the lace on the neck 
and sleeves washed and mended; there were no jewels on 
the sleeves, though the long gloves fitted exquisitely, no 
gems in the buckles of the high-heeled shoes, and the only 
ornament in the carefully rolled and powdered air, a white 
rose. Her face was thin and worn, with pleasant brown 
eyes. Estelle could not think her as beautiful as Calypso 
inconsolable for Ulysses, or Antiope receiving the boar’s 
head. “I know she is better than either,” thought the 
little maid; but I wish she was more like Minerva.” 

The countesses met with the lowest of courtesies, and 
apologies on the one side for intrusion, on the other for 
deshabille, so they concluded with an embrace really affec- 
tionate, though consideration for powder made it necessarily 
somewhat theatrical in appearance. 

These were the stiffest of days, just before formality had 
become unbearable, and' the reaction of simplicity had set 
in; and Estelle had undone two desperate knots in the 
green and yellow silks before the j)reliminary compliments 
were over, and Lady Nithsdale arrived at the point. 

‘‘ Madame is about to rejoin Monsieur son Jfari. ” 

“lam about to have that happiness.” 

“ That is the reason I have been bold enough to derange 
her.” 

“ Do- not mention it. It is always a delight to see Ma- 
dame la Comtesse. ” 

“ Ah! what will madame say when she hears that it is to 
ask a great favor of her. ” 

“ Madame may reckon on me for whatever she would 
command. ” 

“ If you can grant it — oh! madame,” cried the Scottish 
countess, beginning to drop her formality in her eagerness, 
“ we shall be forever beholden to you, and you will make 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


a wounded heart to sing, besides perhaps saving a noble 
3 ’oiuig spirit. 

Madame makes me impatient to hear what she would 
have of me,^^ said the French countess, becoming a little 
on her guard, as the wife of a diplomatist, recollecting, 
too, that peace with George I. might mean war with the 
Jacobites. 

I know not whether a young kinsman of my lord^s has 
ever been presented to madame. His name is Arthur Max- 
well Hope; but we call him usually by his Christian 
name.^^ 

“ A tall, dark, handsome youth, almost like a Spaniard, 
or a picture by Vandyke? It seems to me that 1 have seen 
him with Monsieur le Comte. (Mrne. de Bourke could 
not venture on such a word as Nithsdale.) 

Madame is right. The mother of the boy is a Max- 
well, a cousin not far removed from my lord, but he could 
not liinder her from being given in marriage as second wife 
to Sir David Hope, already an old man. He was good to 
her, but when he died, the sons by the first wife were 
harsh and unkind to her and to her son, of whom they had 
always been Jealous. The eldest was a creature of my Lord 
Stair, and altogether a Whig; indeed, he now holds an 
office at the Court of the Elector of Hanover, and has been 
created one of his peers.” (The scorn with which the 
gentle Winifred uttered those words was worth seeing, and 
the other noble lady gave a little derisive laugh.) “ These 
half -brothers declared that Lady Hope was nurturing the 
young Arthur in Toryism and disaffection, and they made 
it a plea for^eparating him from her, and sending him to 
an old minister, who kept a school, and who was very severe 
and even cruel to the poor boy. But I am wearying ma- 
dame.” 

“ Oh, no, I listen with the deepest interest.” 

“ Finally, when the king was expected in Scotland, and 
men^s minds were full of anger and bitterness, as well as 
hope and spirit, the boy— he was then only fourteeu years 
of age — boasted of his grandfather^s having fought at Kil- 
liecrankie, and used language which the tutor pronounced 
treasonable. He was punished and confined to his room; 
but in the night he made his escape and joined the royal 
army. My husband was grieved to see him, told him he 
had no right to political opinions, and tried to send him 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


21 


home in time to make his peace before all was lost. Alas! 
no. The little fellow did, indeed, pass out safely from 
Preston, but only to join my Lord Mar. He was among the 
gentlemen who embarked at Banff; and when my lord, by 
Heaven^’s mercy, had escaped from the Tower of London, 
and we arrived at Paris, almost the first person we saw was 
little Arthur, whom we thought to have been safe at home. 
We have kept him with us, and T contrived to let his moth- 
er know that he is living, for she had mourned him as 
among the slain.'’ ^ 

“ Poor mother.'’^ 

“ You may. well her, madame. She writes to me 
that if Arthur had returned at once from Preston, as my 
lord advised, all would have been passed over as a school-boy 
frolic; and, indeed, he has never been attainted; but there 
is nothing that his eldest brother, Loi-d Burnside as they 
call him, dreads so much as that it should be known that 
one of his family was engaged in the campaign, or that he 
is keeping such ill company as we are. Therefore, at her 
request, we have never called him. Hope, but let him go by 
our name of Maxwell, which is his by baptism; and now 
she tells me that if he could make his way to Scotland, not 
as if coming from Paris or Bar-le-Duc, but merely as if 
traveling on the Continent, his brother would consent to his 
return.'’^ 

“ Would she be willing that he should live under the 
usurper?^^ 

“ Madame, to tell you the truth, said Lady Nithsdale, 

the Lady Hope is not one to heed the question of usurp- 
ers, so long as her son is safe and a good lad. Nay, for my 
part, we all lived peaceably and happily enough under 
Queen Anne; and by all I hear, so they still do at home 
under the Elector of Hanover. 

The Regent has acknowledged him,' ’ put in the French 
lady. 

“ Well," said the poor exile, I know my lord felt that 
it was his duty to obey the summons of his lawful sovereign, 
and that, as he said when he took up arms, one can only 
do one's duty and take the consequences; but oh! when I 
look at the misery and desolation that has come of it, when 
I think of the wives not so hapj^y as I am, when I see my 
dear lord wearing out his life in banishment, and think of 
our dear home and our poor people, I am tempted: to won- 


22 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


der whether it were indeed a duty, or whether there were 
any right to call on brave men without a more steadfast 
purpose not to abandon them!^^ 

‘‘ It would have been very different if the Duke of Ber- 
wick had led the way/^ observed Mme. de Bourke. “ Then 
my husband would have gone, but, being French subjects, 
honor stayed both him and the duke as long. as the Eegent 
made no move.^^ The good lady, of course, thought that 
the marshal duke and her own count must secure victory; 
but Lady Nitlisdale was intent on her own branch of the 
subject, and did not pursue “ what might have been."’' 

“ i\fter all,^^ she said, ‘‘ poor Arthm*, at fpurteen, could 
have no true political convictions. He merely fled because 
he was harshly treated, heard his grandfather branded as a 
traitor, and had an enthusiasm for my husband, who had 
been kind to him. It was a mere boy’s escapade, and if he 
had returned home when my lord bade him, it would only 
have been remembered as such. He knows it now, and I 
frankly tell you, madame,That what he has seen of our 
exiled court has not increased his ardor in the cause. ” 

“ Alas, no,” said Mme. de Bourke. “ If the Chevalier 
de St. George were other than he is, it would be easier to 
act in his behalf.” 

“ And you agree with me, madame,” continued the 
visitor, that nothing can be worse or more hopeless for a 
youth than the life to which we are constrained here, with 
our whole shadow of hope in intrigue; and for our men, no 
occupation worthy of their sex. We women are not so ill 
off, with our children and domestic affairs; but it breaks 
my heart to see brave gentlemen’s lives thus wasted. We 
have done our best for Arthur. He has studied with one 
of our good clergy, and my lord himself has taught him to 
fence; but we can not treat him any longer as a boy, and I 
know not what is to be his future, unless we can return 
him to his own country^” 

“ Our army,” suggested Mme. de Bourke. 

“Ah! but he is Protestant.” 

“ A heretic!” exclaimed the lady, drawing herself up. 
“ But-” 

“ Oh, do not refuse me on that account. He is a good 
lad, and has lived enough among Catholics to keep his 
opinions in the background. But you understand that it 
is another reason for wishing to convey him, if not to Scot- 


A MODERN TELEMACTIUS. 23 

land, to some land like Sweden or Prussia, where liis faith 
would not be a bar to his promotion/^ 

“ What is it you would have me dor'^ said Mme. de 
Bourke, more coldly. 

If madame would j^ei’niit him to be included in her 
passport, as about to join the embassador^s suite, and thus 
conduct him to Sweden; Lady Hope would find means to 
communicate with him from thence, the poor young man 
would be saved from a ruined career, and the heart of the 
widow and mother would bless you forever. 

Mme. de Bourke was touched, but she was a prudent 
woman, and paused to ask wliether the youth had shown 
any tendency to run into temptation, from which Lady 
Nithsdale wished to remove him. 

Oh, no,’’^ she answered; “ he was a perfectly good do- 
cile lad, though high-spirited, submissive to the earl, and a 
kind playfellow to her little girls; it was his very excellence 
that made it so unfortunate that he should thus be stranded 
in early youth in consequence of one boyish folly. 

The countess began to yield. She thought he might go 
as secretary to her lord, and she owned that if he was a 
brave young man, he would be an addition to her little es- 
cort, which only numbered two men besides her brother-in- 
law, the abbe, who was of almost as little account as his 
young nephew. But I should warn you, madame,^^ added 
Mme. de Bourke, “ that it may be a very dangerous jour- 
ney. 1 own to you, though I would not tell my poor 
mother, that my heart fails me when I think of it, and 
were it not for the express commands of their father, I 
would not risk my poor children on it.^^ 

“ I do not think you will find Sweden otherwise than a 
cheerful and pleasant abode,'’ ^ said Lady Nithsdale. 

Ah! if we were only in Sweden, or with my husband, 
all would be well!^'’ readied the other lady; but we have 
to pass through the mountains, and the Catalans are always 
ill-affected to us French. 

‘‘Nay; but you are a party of women, and belong to an 
embassador!’^ was the answer. 

“ What do those robbers care for that? We are all the 
better prey for them ! I have heard histories of Spanish 
cruelty and lawlessness that would make you shudder! 
You can not guess at the dreadful presentiments that have 
haunted me ever since I had my husband’s letter. ” 


24 


A MODERN TELEMACIIUS. 


There is danger everywhere, dear friend/^ said Lady 
ISTithsdale, kindly; ‘‘but God finds a way for us through 
all/^ 

“Ah! you have experienced it/^ said Mnie. de Bourke. 

‘ ‘ Let us proceed to the affairs. I only thought I should 
tell you the truth. 

Lady Nithsdale answered for the courage of her protege, 
and it was further determined that he should be presented 
to her that evening by the earl, at the farewell reception 
which Mme. de Yarennes was to hold on her daughter's 
behalf, when it could be determined in what capacity he 
should be named in the passport. 

Estelle, who had been listening with all her ears, and 
trying to find a character in Fenelon^s romance to be repre- 
sented by Arthur Hope, now further heard it explained 
that the party were to go southward to meet her father at 
one of the Mediterranean ports, as the English Government 
were so suspicious of Jacobites that he did not venture on 
taking the direct route by sea, but meant to travel through 
Germany. Mme. de Bourke expected to meet her brother 
at Avignon, and to obtain his advice as to her further 
route. 

Estelle heard this with great satisfaction. “Me shall go 
to the Mediterranean Sea and be in danger, she said to 
herself, unfolding the map at the beginning of her “ Tele- 
maque;^-’ “ that is quite right! Perhaps we shall see 
Calypso^ s island. 

She begged hard to be allowed to sit up that evening to 
see the hero of the escape from the Tower of London, as 
well as the traveling companion destined for her, and she 
pu’evailed, for mamma pronounced that she had been very 
sage and reasonable all day, and the grandmamma, who 
was so soon to part with her, could refuse her nothing. So 
she was full dressed, with hair curled, and permitted to 
stand by the tall high-backed chair where the old lady sat 
to receive her visitors. 

The Marquise de Yarennes was a small withered Avoman, 
with keen eyes, and a sort of sparkle of manner, and power 
of setting i^eople at ease, that made her the more charming 
the older she grew. An experienced eye could detect that 
she retained the costume of the prime of Louis XI Y., when 
head-dresses were less high than that which her daughter 
was obliged to wear. For the two last mortal hours of that 


A MODERjq- TELE^rACHUS. 


35 


busy day had j)oor Mme. de Bourke been compelled to sit 
under the hands of the hair-dresser, who was building up, 
with paste and powder and the like, an original conception 
of his, namely, a northern landscape, with snow-laden trees, 
drifts of snow, diamond icicles, and even a cottage beside 
an ice-bound stream. She could ill spare the time, and 
longed to be excused; but the artist had begged so hard to 
be allowed to carry out his brilliant and unique idea, this 
last time of attending on Mme. rEmbassadrice, that there 
was no resisting him, and perhaps her strange forebodings 
made her less willing to inflict a disappointment on the poor 
man. It would have been strange to contrast the fabric of 
vanity building U23 outside her head, with the melancholy 
bodings within it, as she sat motionless under the hair- 
dresser’s fingers; but at the end she roused herself to smile 
gratefully, and give the admiration that was felt to be due 
to the monstrosity that crowned her. Forbearance and 
Christian patience may be exercised even on a toilet d 
Louis XV. Long practice enabled her to walk about, seat 
herself, rise and courtesy without detriment to the edifice, 
or bestowing the powder either on her neighbors or on the 
richly flowered white brocade she wore; while she received 
the compliments, one after another, of ladidS in even more 
gorgeous array, and gentlemen in velvet coats, adorned 
with gold lace, cravats of exquisite fabric, and diamond 
shoe-buckles. 

Phelim Burke, otherwise PAbbe de St. Eudoce, stood 
near her. He was a thin, yellow, and freckled youth, with 
sandy hair and typical Irish features, but without their droll-, 
ery, and his face was what might have been expected in a 
half-starved, half-clad gossoon in a cabin, rather than sur- 
mounting a silken soutana in a Parisian salon; but he had 
a pleasant smile when kindly addressed by his friends. 

Presently Lady Nithsdale drew near, accompanied by a 
tall, grave gentleman, and bringing with them a still taller 
youth, with the stiffest of backs and the longest of legs, 
who, when presented, made a bow apparently from the end 
of his spine, like Estelle’s lamented Dutch-jointed doll 
when made to sit down. Moreover, he was more shabbily 
dressed than any other gentleman present, with a general 
outgrown look about his coat, and darns in his silk stock- 
ings; and though they were made by the hand of a count- 
ess, that did not add to their elegance. And as ho stood as 


26 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


stiff as a ramrod or as a sentinel, Estelle ^s good breeding 
was all called into play, and her mother’s heart quailed as 
she said to herself, “ A great raw Scot! What can be done 
with him?” 

Lord Nithsdale spoke for him, thinking he had better go 
as secretary, and showing some handwriting of good quality. 

‘‘ Did he know any languages?” 

** French, English, Latin, and some Greek.” 

“ And, madame,” added Lord Nithsdale, not only is 
his French much better than mine, as you would hear if 
the boy durst open his mouth, but our broad Scotch is so 
like Swedish that he will almost be an interpreter there. ” 

However hopeless Mme. de Bourke felt, she smiled and 
professed herself rejoiced to hear it, and it was further de- 
cided that Arthur Maxwell Hope, aged eighteen, Scot by 
birth, should be mentioned among those of the embas- 
sador’s household for whom she demanded passports. Her 
position rendered this no matter of difficulty, and it as 
wiser to give the full truth to the home authorities; but as 
it was desirable that it should not be reported to the En- 
glish Government that Lord Burnside’s brother was in the 
suite of the Jacobite Comte de Bourke, he was only to be 
known to the public by his first name, which was not much 
harder to French lips than Maxwell or Hope. 

“ Tall and black and awkward,” said Estelle, describing 
him to her brother. ‘‘ I shall not like him — I shall call 
him Phalante instead of Arthur.” 

“ Arthur,” said Ulysse; “ King Arthur was turned into 
a crow!” 

‘‘ Well, this Arthur is like a crow — a great black skinny 
crow with torn feathers. ” 


CHAPTER HI. 

ON THE RHONE. 

Fairer scenes the opening eye 
Of the day can scarce descry, 

Fairer sight he looks not on 
Than the pleasant banks of Rhone. 

Archbishop Trench. 

Lono legs may be in the abstract an advantage, but 
scarcely so in what was called in France une grande Ber^ 
line. This was the favorite traveling carriage of the eight- 


A MOPER>'’ TELEMACHUS. 


27 


eenth century, and consisted of a close carriage or coach 
proper, with arrangements on the top for luggage, and be- 
hind it another seat open, but provided with a large leathern 
hood, and in front another place for the coachman and his 
companions. Each seat was wide enough to hold three per- 
. sons, and thus within sat Mme. de Bourke, her brother-in- 
law, the two children, Arthur Hope, and Mademoiselle Juli- 
enne, an elderly woman of the artisan class, femme de cliam- 
hre to the countess. Victorine, who was attendant on the 
children, would travel under the hood with two more maids; 
and the front seat would be occupied by the coachman, 
Laurence Callaghan— otherwise La Jeunesse, and Maitre 
Hebert, the maitre d^ hotel. Fain woiftd Arthur have 

shared their elevation, so far as ease and comfort of mind 
and body went, and the countess’s wishes may have gone 
the same way; but besides that it would have been an in- 
sult to class him with the servants, the horses of the home 
establishment, driven by their own coachman, took the 
party the first stage out of Paris; and though afterward 
the post-horses or mules, six in number, would be ridden 
by their own postilions, there was such an amount of lug- 
gage as to leave little or no space for a third person outside. 

It had been a perfect sight to see the carriage packed; 
when Arthur, convoyed by Lord Nithsdale, arrived in the 
court-yard of the Hotel de Varennes. Mme. de Bourke ^ 
was taking with her all the paraphernalia of an embassador 
— a service of plate, in a huge chest stowed under the seat, 
a portrait of Philip V., in a gold frame set with diamonds, 
being included among her jewelry — and Lord Nithsdale, 
standing by, could not but dryly remark, “ Yonder is more 
than we brought with us, Arthur. 

The two walked up and down the court together, unwill- 
ing to intrude on the parting which, as they well knew, 
would be made in floods of tears. Sad enough, indeed, it 
was, for Mme. de Varennes was advanced in years, and her 
daughter had not only to part with her, but with the baby 
Jacques, for an unknown space of time; but the self-com- 
mand and restraint of grief for the sake of each other was 
absolutely unknown. It was a jDoint of honor and senti- 
ment to weep as much as possible, and it would have been 
regarded as frigid and unnatural not to go on ciying too 
much to eat or speak for a whole day beforehand, and at 
least two afterward. 


28 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


So when the travelers descended the steps to take their 
seats, each face was enveloped in a handkerchief, and there 
were passionate embraces, literal pressings to the breast, 
and violent sobs, as each victim, one after the other, 
ascended the carriage steps and fell back on the seat; while 
in the background, Honor Callaghan was uttering Irish 
wails over the abbe and Laurence, and the lamentable 
sound set the little lap-dog and the big watch-dog howling 
in chorus. Arthur Hope, probably as miserable as any of 
them in parting with his friend and hero, was only stand- 
ing like a stake, and an embarrassed stake (if that be pos- 
sible), and Lord Nithsdale, though anxious for him, heartily 
pitying all, was nevertheless haunted by a queer recollec- 
tion of Lance and his dog, and thinking that French dogs 
were not devoid of sympathy, and that the part of Crab 
was left for Arthur. 

However, the last embrace was given, and the ladies 
were all packed in, while the abbe, with his breast heaving 
with sobs, his big hat in one hand, and a huge silk pocket- 
handkerchief in the other, did not forget his manners, but 
waved to Arthur to ascend the steps first. ‘‘ Secretary, 
not guest. You must remember that another time,^^ said 
Lord Nithsdale. ‘‘ God bless you, my dear lad, and bring 
you safe back to bonny Scotland, a true and leal heart. 

>. Arthur wrung his friend^s hand once more and disap- 
peared into the vehicle; Nurse Honor made one more rush 
and uttered another Ohone over Abbe Phelim, who 
followed into the carriage; the door was shut; there was a 
last wail over “ Lanty, the sunbeam of my heart, as he 
climbed to the box seat; the harness jingled; coachman 
and postilions cracked their whips, the impatient horses 
dashed out at the porte-cochere; and Arthur, after en- 
deavoring to dispose of his legs, looked about him, and 
saw, opposite to him, Mme. de Bourke lying back in the 
corner in a transport of grief, one arm round her daughter, 
and her little son lying across her lap, both sobbing and 
crying; and on one side of him the abbe, sunk in his cor- 
ner, his yellow silk handkerchief over his face; on the 
other. Mile. J ulienne, who was crying, too, but with more 
moderation, perhaps more out of propriety or from infec- 
tion than from actual grief; at any rate she had more of 
her senses about her than any one else, and managed to 
dispose of the various loose articles that had been thrown 


A MODEKK TELEMACHUS. 


29 


after the travelers, in pockets and under cushions. Arthur 
would have assisted, but only succeeded in treading on 
various toes and eliciting some small shrieks, which discon- 
certed him all the more, and made Mile. Julienne look 
daggers at him, as she relieved her lady of little Ulysse, 
lifting him to her own knee, where, as he was absolutely 
exhausted with crying, he fell asleep. 

Arthur hoped the others would do the same, and perhaps 
there was more dozing than they would have confessed; but 
whenever there was a movement, and some familiar object 
in the streets of Paris struck the eye of madame, the abbe, 
or Estelle, there was a little cry, and they went off on a 
fresh score. 

“ Poor wretched weak creatures !^Mie said to himself, as 
he thought over the traditions of Scottish heroic women on 
whose heroism he had gloated. And yet he was wrong; 
Mme. de Bourke was capable of as much resolute self- 
devotion as any of the ladies on the other side of the Chan- 
nel, but tears were a tribute required by the times. So she 
gave way to Ahem — just as no doubt the women of former 
days saw nothing absurd in bottling them. 

Arthur^s position among all these weeping figures was 
extremely awkward, all the more so that he carried his 
sword upright between his legs, not daring to disturb the 
lachrymose company enough to dispose of it in the sword- 
case appropriated to weapons He longed to take out the 
little pocket “ Virgil, which Lord Nithsdale had given 
him, so as to have some occupation for his eyes, but he durst 
not, lest he should be thought rude, till, at a halt at a 
cabaret to water the horses, the striking of a clock re- 
minded the abbe that it was the time for reading the Hours, 
and when the breviary was taken out, Arthur thought his 
book might follow it. 

By and by there was a halt at Corbeil, where was the 
nunnery of Alice Bourke, of whom her brother and sister- 
in-law were to take leave. They, with the children, were 
set down there, while Arthur went on with the carriage and 
servants to the inn to dine. 

It was the first visit of Ulysse to the convent, and he was 
much amazed at peeping at his aunt^s hooded face through 
a grating. However, the family were admitted to dine in 
the refectory; but poor Mme. de Bourke was fit for nothing 


30 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


but to lie on a bed, attended affectionately by her sister-in- 
law, Seeur Ste. Madeleine. 

‘‘ Oh sister, sister,^’ was her ciy, “ I must say it to you 
— I would not to my poor mother — that I have the most 
horrible presentiments I shall never see her again, nor my 
poor child. No, nor my husband; I knew it when he took 
leave of me for that terrible Spain. 

“ Yet you see he is safe, and you will be with him, sis- 
ter, returned the nun. 

“Ah! that I knew I should! But think of those fearful 
Pyrenees, and the bandits that infest them — and all the 
valuables we carry with us!’" 

“ Surely I heard that Marshal Berwick had offered you 
an escort. ’ ’ 

“ That will only attract the attention of the brigands 
and bring them in greater force. Oh, sister, sister, my 
heart sinks at the thought of my j)oor children in the hands 
of those savages! I dream of them every night.” 

“ The suite of an embassador is sacred.” 

“ Ah! but what do they care for that, the robbers? I 
know destruction lies that way!” 

“Nay, sister, this is not like you. You always were 
brave, and trusted Heaven, when you had to follow IJlick. ” 

“ Alas! never had I this sinking of heart, which tells me 
I shall be torn from my poor children and never rejoin 
him. ” 

Sister Ste. Madeleine caressed and prayed with the poor 
Ikly, and did her utmost to reassure and comfort her, 
j)romising a neuvaine for her safe journey and meeting 
W'ith her h usband. 

“ For the children,” said the poor countess. “ I know 
I never shall see him more. ” 

However, the cheerfulness of the bright Irishwoman had 
done her some good, and she was better by the time she rose 
to 2^ursue her journey. Estelle and Ulysse had been much 
petted by the nuns, and when all met again, to the great 
relief of Arthur, he found continuous weeping was not de 
rigueur. When they got in again, he was able to get rid 
of his sword, and only trod on two pair of toes, and got his 
legs twice tumbled over. 

Moreover, Mme. de Bourke had recovered the faculty of 
making pretty speeches, and when the weapon was put into 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 31 

the sword-case, she observed with a sad little smile, Ah, 
monsieur! we look to you as our defender!"" 

“ And me too!"" cried little Ulysse, making a violent de- 
monstration with his tiny blade, and so nearly poking out his 
uncle's eye that the article was relegated to the same hid- 
ing-place as “Monsieur Arture"s,"" and the boy was as- 
sured that this was a proof of his manliness. 

^ He had quite recovered his spirits, and as his mother and 
sister were still exhausted with weeping, he was not easy to 
manage, till Arthur took heart of grace, and oftering him 
a perch on his knee,, let him look out at the window, ex- 
plaining the objects on the way, which were all quite new 
to the little Parisian boy. Fortunately he spoke French 
well, with scarcely any foreign accent, and his answers to 
the little fellow"s eager questions interspersed with observa- 
tions on “ What they do in my country,"" not only kept 
Ulysse occupied, but gained Estelle"s attention, though she 
was too weary and languid, and perhaps, child as she was, 
too much bound by the requirements of sympathy to mani- 
fest her interest, otherwise than by moving near enough to 
listen. 

That evening the party reached the banks of one of the 
canals which connected the rivers of France, and which was 
to convey them to the Loire and thence to the Rhone, in a 
huge flat-bottomed barge, called a coche-d" eau, a sort of 
ark, with cabins, where travelers could be fairly comfort- 
able, space where the berlin could be stowed away in the 
rear, and a deck with an awning where the passengers could 
disport themselves. From the days of Sully to those of the 
Revolution, this was by far the most convenient and secure 
mode of transport, especially in the south of France. It 
was very convenient to the Bourke party; who were soon 
established on the deck. The lady "s dress was better adapt- 
ed to traveling than the full costume of Paris. It was 
what she called en Amazone — namely, a cloth riding-habit 
faced with blue, with a short skirt, with open coat and 
waistcoat, like a man"s, hair unpowdered and tied behind, 
and a large shady feathered hat. Estelle wore a miniature 
of the same, and rejoiced in her freedom from the whale- 
bone stiffness of her Paris life, skipping about the deck 
with her brother, like fairies, Lanty said, or, as she pre- 
ferred to make it, “ like a nymph. "" 

The water coach moved only by day, and was already ar- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


rived before the land one brought the weary party to the 
meeting-place — a picturesque water-side inn with a high 
roof, and a trellised passage down to the landing-place, 
covered by a vine, hung with clusters of ripe grapes. ^ 

Here the travelers supped on omelettes 2^x1^ vin ordinaire, 
and went off to bed — madame and her child in one bed, 
with the maids on the floor, and in another room the abbe 
and secretary, each in a grabat, the two men-servants in 
like manner, on the floor. Such was tlie privacy of the 
eighteenth century, and Arthur, used to waiting on himself, 
looked on with wonder to see the abbe like a baby in the 
hands of his faithful foster-brother, who talked away in a 
queer mixture of Irish-English and French all the time 
until they knelt down and said their prayers together in 
Latin, to w^hich Arthur diligently closed his Protestant ears. 

Early the next morning the family embarked, the car- 
riage having been already put on board; and the journey 
became very agreeable as they glided slowly, almost dream- 
ily along, borne chiefly by the current, although a couple 
of horses towed the barge by a rope on the bank, in case of 
need, in places where the water was more sluggish, but 
nothing more was wanting in the descent toward the Med- 
iterranean. 

The accommodation was not of a high order, but when- 
ever there was a halt near a good inn, Mme. de Bourke 
and the children landed for the night. And in the fine 
days of early autumn the deck was delightful, and to dine 
” ' )ught on board was a perpetual 



The weather was beautiful, and there was a constant 
panorama of fair sights and scenes. Harvest first, a per- 
fectly new spectacle to the children, and then, as they went 
further south, the vintage. The beauty was great as they 
glided along the pleasant banks of Rhone. 

Tiers of vines on the hill-sides were mostly cut and 
trimmed like currant bushes, and disappointed Arthur, 
who had expected festoons on trellises. But this was the 
special time for beauty. The whole population, in pictur- 
esque costumes, were fillingdiuge baskets with the clusters, 
and snatches of their merry songs came pealing down to the 
coche-d^eau, as it quietly crept along. Toward evening 
groiq)s were seen with piled baskets on their heads, or 
borne between them, youths and maidens crowned with 


A MODERl^ TP:LEMACHUS. 


33 


vines, half-naked children dancing like little'Bacchanalians, 
which awoke classical recollections in Arthur and delighted 
the cliildren. 

Poor Mme. de Bourke was still much depressed, and 
would sit dreaming half the day, except when roused by 
some need of her children, some question, or some appeal 
for her admiration. Otherwise, the lovely heights, sur- 
mounted with tall towerSj extinguisher-capped, of castle, 
convent, or church, the clear reaches of river,. the beautiful 
turns, the little villages and towns gleaming white among 
the trees, seemed to pass unseen before her eyes, and she 
might be seen to shudder when the children pressed her to 
say how many days it would be before they saw their father. 

An observer with a mind at ease might have been much 
entertained with the airs and graces that the two maids. 
Rosette and Babette, lavished upon Laurence, their only 
squire; for Maitre Hebert was far too distant and elderly a 
person for their little coquetries. Rosette dealt in little 
terrors, and, if he was at hand, durst not step across 
a plank without his hand, was sure she heard wolves 
howling in the woods, and that every peasant was ce iar-^ 
bare while Babette, who^ in conjunction with Maitre 
Hebert acted cook in case of need, jDlied him with dainty 
morsels, which he was only too apt to bestow on the beg- 
gars, or the lean and hungry lad who attended on the 
horses. Victorine, on the other hand, by far the j)rettiest 
and most sprightly of the three, atfected the most supreme 
indifference to him and his attentions, and hardly deigned 
to give him a civil word, or to accept the cornflowers and 
late roses he brought her from time to time. Mere 
weeds,^^ she said. And the grapes and Queen -Claude 
2)Jums he brought her were always sour. /Yet a something 
deep blue might often be seen peeping above her trim little 
apron. 

Not that Lanty had much time to disport himself in this 
fashion, for the abbe was his care, and was perfectly happy 
with a rod of his arranging, with which to fish over the 
side. Little Illysse was of course fired with the same 
emulation, and dangled his line for an hour together. Es- 
telle would have liked to do the same, but her mother and 
Mile. Julienne considered the sport not convenaUe for a 
demoiselle Arthur was once or twice induced to try the 
abbey’s rod, but he found it as mere a toy as that of the 


34 


A MODERX TELEMACHUS. 


boy; and the mere action of throwing it made his heart so 
sick with the contrast with the “ paidling in the burns 
of his childhood, that he had no inclination to continue the 
attempt, either in the slow canal or the broadening river. _ 

Be was still very shy with the countess, who was not in 
spirits to set him at ease; and the abb6 puzzled him, as is 
often the case when inexperienced strangers encounter un- 
acknowledged deficiency. The perpetual coaxing chatter, 
and undisguised familiarity of La Jeunesse with the young 
ecclesiastic did not seem to the somewhat haughty cast of 
his young Scotch mind quite becoming, and he held aloof; 
but with the two children he was quite at ease, and was in 
truth their great resource. 

He made Ulysse^s fishing-rod, baited it, and held the boy 
when he used it — nay, he once even captured a tiny fish 
with it, to the ecstatic pity of both children. He played 
quiet games with them, and told them stories — conversed 
on “ T^lemaque^"' with Estelle, or read to her from his one 
book, which was ‘‘ Robinson Crusoe — a little black c^py 
in pale print, with the margins almost thumbed away, 
which he had carried in his pocket when he ran away from 
school, and nearly knew by heart. 

Estelle was deeply interested in it, and varied in opinion 
whether she should prefer Calypso’s island or Crusoe’s, 
which she took for as much matter of fact as did, a century 
later, Mme. Talleyrand, when, out of civility to Mr. Rob- 
inson, she inquired after ‘‘ ce ion VendrediJ ^ 

She inclined to think she should prefer Friday to the 
nymphs. 

A whole quantity of troublesome womenfolk to fash 
one,” said Arthur, who had not arrived at the age of gal- 
lantr}". 

‘‘You would never stay there!” said Estelle; “you 
would push us over the rock like Mentor. I think you are 
our Mentor, for I am sure you tell us a great deal, and you 
don’t scold. ” 

“ Mentor was a cross old man,” said TJlysse. 

To which Estelle replied that he was a goddess; and Ar- 
thur very decidedly disclaimed either character, especially 
the pushing over rocks. And thus they glided on, spend- 
ing a night in the great, busy, bewildering city of Lyon, 
already the center of silk industry; but more interesting to 
the travelers as the shrine of the martyrdoms. All went to 


A MODERI?' TELEMACHUS. 


35 


pray at the cathedral except Arthur. The time was not 
come for heeding church architecture or primitive history; 
and he only wandered about the narrow crooked streets, 
gazing at the toy piles of market produce, and looking at 
the stalls of merchandise, but as one unable to purchase. 
His mother had indeed contrived to send him twenty 
guineas, but he knew that he must husband them well in 
case of emergencies, and Lady JSTithsdale had sewn them 
all up, except one, in a belt which he wore under his clothes. 

He had arrived at the front of the cathedral when the 
party came out. Mme. de Bourke had been weeping, but 
looked more peaceful than he had yet seen her, and Estelle 
was much excited. She had bought a little book, which 
she insisted on her Mentor's reading with her, though his 
Protestant feelings recoiled. 

Ah!^^ said Estelle, ‘‘ but you are not Christian. 

Yes, truly, mademoiselle.'’^ 

“ And these died for the Christian faith. Do you know 
mamma said it comforted her to pray there; for she was 
sure that whatever happened, the good God can make us 
s^trong, as He made the young girl who sat in the red-hot 
ciiair. We saw her picture, and it was dreadful. Do read 
about her. Monsieur Arture. 

They read, and Arthur had candor enough to perceive 
that this was the simple primitive narrative of the death of 
martyrs struggling for Christian truth, long ere the days of 
superstition and division. Estelle^s face lighted with en- 
thusiasm. 

Is it not noble to be a martyr?^' she asked. 

‘‘ Oh!^' cried IJlysse; to sit in a red-hot chair.^ It 
would be worse than to be thrown off a rock! But there 
are no niartyrs in these days, sister?^'’ he added, pressing 
up to Arthur as if for protection. 

There are those who die for the right,'’'’ said Arthur, 
thinking of Lord perwentwater, who in Jacobite eyes was 
a martyr. 

And the good God makes them' strong,^'’ said Estelle, 
in a low voice. Mamma told me no one could tell how 
soon we might be tried, and that I was to pray that He 
would make us as brave as St. Blandina! What do you 
think could harm us, monsieur, when we are going to my 
dear papa?'’^ 

It "was Lanty who answered, from behind the abbe, on 


36 


A MODERN^ TELEMACHUS. 


whose angling endeavors he was attending. “ Arrah then, 
nothing at all, mademoiselle. Nothing in the four corners 
of the world shall hurt one little curl of your blessed little 
head, while Lanty Callaghan is to the fore. ” 

Ah! but you are not God, Lanty,"" said Estelle gravely; 

‘‘ you can not keep things from happening."" 

“ The Powers forbid that I should spake such blas- 
phemy!"" said Lanty, taking off his hat. "Twas not 
that I meant, but only that poor Lanty would die ten thou- 
sand deaths — worse than them as was thrown to the beasts 
— before one of them should harm the tip of that little 
finger of yours!"" 

Perhaps the same vow was in Arthur "s heart, though 
not spoken in such strong terms. 

Thus they drifted on till the Old city of Avignon rose on 
the eyes of the travelers, a dark pile of buildings where the 
massive houses, built round courts, with few external win- 
dows, recalled that these had once been the palaces of car- 
dinals -accustomed to the Italian city feuds, which made 
every house become a fortress. 

On the wharf stood a gentleman in a resplendent uni- 
form of blue and gold, whom the children hailed with cries 
of joy and outstretched arms, as their uncle. The Marquis 
de Varennes was soon on board, embracing his sister and 
her children, and conducting them to one of the great pal- 
aces, where he had rooms, being then in garrison. Arthur 
followed, at a sign from the lady, who presented him to her 
brother as Monsieur Arture "" — a young Scottish gentle- 
man who will do my husband the favor of acting as his 
secretary. 

She used the word gentmiomme, which conveyed the sense 
of nobility of blood, and the marquis acknowledged the in- 
troduction with one of those graceful bows that Arthur 
hated, because they made him doubly feel the stiffness of 
his own limitation. He was glad to linger with Lanty, 
who was looking in wonder at the grim buildings. 

“ And did the Holy Father live here?"" said he. Faith. , 
and "twas a quare taste he must have had; I wonder now it 
there would be vartue in a bit of a stone from his palace. 
It would mightily please my old mother if there were."" 

“I thought it was the wrong popes that lived here,"" 
suggested Arthur. 

Lanty looked at him a moment as if in doubt whether to 


A MODERK TELEMACHUS. 37 

accept a heretic suggestion, but the education received 
through the abbe came to mind, and he exclaimed — 

‘‘ May be yoii are in the right of it, sir; and IM best let 
the stones alone till I can tell which is the true and whicli 
is the false. By the same token, little is the difference it 
would make to her, unless she knew it; and if she did^ 
sheM as soon I brought her a hair of the old dragon’s 
bristles.’’ 

Lanty found another day or two’s journey bring him 
very nearly in contact with the old dragon, for at Tarascon 
was the cave in which St. Martha was said to have demol- 
ished the great dragon of Provence with the sign of the 
cross. Mme. de Bourke and her children made a devout 
pilgrimage thereto; but when Arthur found that it was the 
actual Martha of Bethany to whom the legend was append- 
ed, he grew indignant, and would not accompany the party. 
“ It was a very different thing from the martyrs of Lyon 
and Vienne! Their history was credible, but this — ” 

Speak not so loud, my friend,” said M. de Yaren nes. 
‘‘ Their shrines are equally good to console women and chil- 
dren.” 

Arthur did not quite understand the tone, nor know 
whether to be gratified at being treated as a man, or to be 
shocked at the marquis’s defection from his own faith. 

The marquis, who was able to accompany his sister as far 
as Montpelier, was amused at her two followers, Scotch and 
Irish, both fine young men — almost too fine, he averred. 

“ You will have to keep a careful watch on them when 
you enter Germany, sister,” he said, “or the King* of 
Prussia will certainly kidnap them'for his tall regirn^nt of 
grenadiers. ” 

“ Oh, brother, do not speak of any more dangers; I see 
quite enough before me ere I can even rejoin my dear hus- 
band.” ^ ^ ^ 

A very serious council was held betwe'en the brother and 
sister. The French army under Marshal Berwick had 
marched across on the south side on the Pyrenees, and was 
probably by this time in the county of Rousillon, intending 
to besiege Rosas. Once with them all would be well, but 
between lay the mountain roads, and the very quarter of 
Spain that had been most unwilling to accept French rule. 
The marquis had been authorized to place an escort at his 
sister’s service, but though the numbers might guard her 


38 


A MODERJs^ TELEMACHUS. 


against mere mountain banditti, they would not be sufficient 
to protect her from hostile troops, such a§ might only too 
possibly be on the way to encounter Berwick. The expense 
and difficulty of the journey on the mountain roads would 
likewise be great, and it seemed advisable to avoid these 
dangers by going by sea. Mme. de Bourke eagerly acceded 
to this plan, her terror of the wild Pyrenean passes and 
wilder inhabitants had always been such that she was glad 
to catch at any means of avoiding them, and she had made 
more than one voyage before. 

Estelle was gratified to find they were to go by sea, since 
Telemachus did so in a Phoenician ship, and, in that odd 
dreamy way in which children blend fiction and reality, 
wondered if they should come on Calypso^s island; and 
A rthur, who had read the Odyssey, delighted her and terri- 
fied Ulysse with the cave of Polyphemus. M. de Varennes 
could only go with his sister as far as Montpelier. Then 
he . took leave of her, and the party proceeded along the 
shores of the lagoons, in the carriage to the seaport of 
Cette, one of the old Greek towns of the Gulf of Lyon, 
and with a fine harbor full of ships. Maitre Hebert was 
sent to take a passage on board of one, while his lady and 
her party repaired to an inn, and waited all the afternoon 
before he returned with tidings that he could find no French 
vessel about to sail for Spain, but that there was a Genoese 
tartane, bound for Barcelona, on which Mme. la Comtesse 
could secure a passage for herself and her suite, and which 
would take her thither in twenty-four hours. 

The town was full of troops, waiting a summons to join 
Marshal Berwick’s army. Several resplendent officers had 
already paid their respects to Mme. PEmbassadrice, and 
they concurred in the advice, unless she would prefer wait- 
ing for the arrival of one of the French transports which 
were to take men and provisions to the army in Spain. 

This, however,, ^le declined, and only accepted the serv- 
ices of the gentlemAi so far as to have her j^assports re- 
newed, as wg-s needful, since they were to be conveyed by 
the vessel of an independent power, though always an ally 
of France. 

The tartane was a beautiful object, a one-decked, single- 
masted vessel, with a long bowsprit, and a huge lateen sail 
like a wing, and the children fell in love with her at first 
sight. Estellowas quite sure that she was just such a ship 


A MODERN TELEJUCHUS. 


39 


as Mentor borrowed for Telemaclius; but the poor maids 
were horribly frightened, and Babette might be heard de- 
claring she had never engaged herself to be at the mercy of 
the waves, like a bit of lemon peel in a glass of eau sucree, 
“ You may return,' ^ said Mme. de Bourke. “ I compel no 
one to share our dangers and hardshijos. 

But Babette threw herself on her knees, and declared 
that nothing should ever separate her from madame! She 
was a good creature, but she could not deny herself the 
luxury of the sobs and tears that showed to all beholders 
the extent of her sacrifice. 

Mme. de Bourke knew that there would be considerable 
discomfort in a vessel so little adapted for passengers, and 
with only one small cabin, which the captain, who spoke 
French, resigned to her use. It would only, however, be 
for a short time, and though it was near the end of Octo- 
ber, the blue expanse of sea was calm as only the Mediter- 
ranean can be, so that she trusted that no harm would re- 
sult to those who would have to spend the night on deck. 

It^ was a beautiful evening when the little Genoese vessel 
left the harbor and Cette receded in the distance, looking 
fairer the further it was left behind. The children were 
put to bed as soon as they could be persuaded to cease from 
watching the lights in the harbor and the phosphorescent 
wake of the vessel in the water. 

That night and the next day were pleasant and peaceful; 
there was no rough weather, and little sickness among the 
travelers. Mme. de Bourke congratulated herself on hav- 
ing escaped the horrors of the Pyrenean journey, and the 
Genoese captain assured her that unless the weather should 
change rapidly, they would wake in sight of the Spanish 
coast the next morning. If the sea were not almost too 
calm, they would be there already. The evening was again 
so delightful that the children were glad to hear that they 
would have again to return by sea, and Arthur, who some- 
what shrunk from his presentation to the count, regretted 
that the end of the voyage was so near, though Ulysse 
assured him that Mon papa would love him, because he 
could tell such charming stories,'’^ and Lanty testified that 

M. le Comte was a mighty friend ly..gentleman.^^ 

Arthur was lying asleep on deck, wrapped in his cloak, 
when he was awakened by a commotion among the sailors. 


40 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


He started up and found that it was early morning, the sun 
rising above the sea, and the sailors all gazing eagerly in 
that direction. He eagerly made his way to ask if thay 
were in sight of land, recollecting, however, as he made the 
first step, that Sj^ain lay to the west of them — not to the 
east. 

He distinguished the cry from the Genoese sailors, “ Ti 
Moro — II MorOy^ in tones of horror and consternation, and 
almost at the same moment received a shock from Maitre 
Hebert, who came stumbling against him. 

Pardon, pardon, monsieur; I go to prepare madame! 
IPs the accursed Moors. Let me pass — misericorde , what 
will become of us?^^ 

Arthur struggled on in search of such of the crew' as 
could speak French, but all were in too much consternation 
to attend to him, and he could only watch that to which 
their eyes w^ere directed, a white sail, bright in the morning 
•light, coming up with a rapidity strange and fearful in its 
precision, like a hawk pouncing on its prey, for it did not 
depend on its sails alone, but was propelled by oars. 

The next moment Mine, de Bourke was on deck, holding 
by the abbess arm, and Estelle, her hair on her shoulders, 
clinging to her. She looked very pale, but her calmness 
was in contrast to the Italian sailors, who were throwing 
themselves with gestures of despair, screaming out vows to 
the Madonna and saints, and shouting imprecations. The 
skipper came to speak to her. Madame, ^Mie said, ''‘I 
implore you to remain in your cabin. After the first, you 
and all yours will be safe. They can not harm a French 
subject; alas I alas! would it were so with us.^^ 

‘^How then will it be with you?’^ she asked. 

He made a gesture of deprecation. 

“For me it will be ruin; for my poor fellows slavery; 
that is, if we survive the onset. Madame, I entreat of 
you, take shelter in the cabin, yourself and all yours. 
Xone can answer for what the first rush of these fiends 
may be! DiavoJi ! veri diarola ! Ah! for which of my 
sins is it that after fifty vovages I should be condemned to 
lose my all 

A fresh outburst of screams fi’om the crew summoned 
the captain. “ They are putting out the long-boat,^' was 
the cry ; “ they will board us!’^ 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 41 

“ Maxiame! I entreat of you, shut yourself into ihe 
cab in/ ^ 

And the four maids in various stages of deshabille, add- 
ing their cries to those of the sailors, tried to drag her in, 
but she looked about for Arthur. ‘‘ Come with us, mon- 
sieur, she said quietly, for after all her previous depres- 
sions and alarm, her spirit rose to endurance in the actual 
stress of danger. ‘‘ Come with us, I entreat of you,’"’ she 
said. You are named in our passports, and the treaties 
are such that neither French nor English subjects can be 
maltreated nor enslaved by these wretches. As the cap- 
tain says, the danger is only in the first attack.'’^ 

I will protect you, madam e, with my life,'’^ declared 
Arthur, drawing his sword, as his cheeks and eyes lighted. 

‘‘ Ah, put that away. What could you do but lose your 
ovvn?’^ cried the lady. “ Remember, you have a moth- 
er — 

The Genoese captain here turned to insist that madame 
and all the women should shut themselves instantly into 
the cabin. Estelle dragged hard at Arthu/s hand, with 
entreaties that he would come, but he lifted her down the 
ladder, and then closed the door on her, Lanty and he be- 
ing both left outside. 

To be shut into a hole like a rat in a traj^ when there’s 
blows to the fore, is more than flesh could stand,” said 
Lanty, who had seized on a hand-spike and was waving it 
about his head, true shillelah fashion, by hereditary in- 
stinct in one who had never beheld a faction fight, in what 
ought to have been his native land. 

The Genoese captain looked at him as a madman, and 
shouted in a confused mixture of French and Italian to lay 
down his weapon. 

Quei cattivi — ces scelerats \\Q\'e armed to the teeth — 
would fire. All lie flat on the deck.” 

The gesture spoke for itself. With a fearful howl all the 
Italians dropped flat; but neither Scotch nor Irish blood 
brooked to follow their example, or perhaps fully perceived 
the urgency of the need, till a volley of b fillets were whis- 
tling about their ears, though happily without injury, the 
mast and the rigging having protected them, for the sail 
was riddled with holes, and the smoke dimmed their vision 
as the report sounded in their ears. In another second the 


42 , A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 

turbaned, cimetered figures were leaping on board. The 
Genoese still lay flat, offering no resistance, but Lanty and 
Arthur stood on either side of the ladder, and hurled back 
the two who first approached; but four or five more rushed 
upon them, and they would have been instantly cut down, 
had it not been for a shout from the Genoese, Francliil 
Franrlii I At that magic word, which was evidently un- 
derstood, the pirates only held the two youths tightly. 
Vituperating them no doubt in bad Arabic — Lanty grind- 
ing his teeth with rage, though scarcely feeling the pain of 
the two saber cuts he had received, and pouring forth a 
volley of exclamations, chiefly, however, directed against 
tlie white-livered spalpeens of sailors, who had not lifted 
so much as a hand to help him. Fortunately no one un- 
derstood a word he said but Arthur, who had military ex- 
perience enough to know there was nothing for it but to 
stand still in the grasp of his captor, a wiry-looking Moor, 
with a fez and a striped sash round his waist. 

The leader, a sturdy Turk in a dirty white turban, with 
a huge saber in his hand, was listening to the eager words, 
poured out with many gesticulations by the Genoese cap- 
tain, in a language utterly incomprehensible to the Scot, 
but which was the Iwgtta Franca of the Mediterranean 
ports. 

It resulted in four men being placed on guard at the 
hatchway leading to the cabin, while all the rest, including 
Arthur, Hebert, Laurence, were driven toward the prow, 
and made to understand by signs that they must not move 
on peril of their lives. A Turk was placed at the helm, and 
the tartane’s head turned toward the jnrate captor; and all 
the others, who were not emifloyed otherwise, began to 
ransack the vessel and feast on the provisions. Some hams 
were thrown overboard, with shouts of evident scorn as be- 
longing to the unclean beast, but the wine was eagerly 
drunk, and Maitre Hebert uttered a wail of dismay as he 
saw five Moors gorging large pieces of his finest 2)dte, 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


43 


CHAPTER IV. 

WRECKED. 

They had na sailed upon the sea 
A day hut barely three, 

When the lift grew dark and the wind blew cauld 
And gurly grew’ the sea. 

Oh where will I find a little wee boy 
Will tak my helm in hand, 

Till I gae up to my top mast 
And see for some dry land. 

Sir Patrick Spens 

It was bad enougli on the deck . of the unfortunate 
Genoese tartane, but far worse below, where eight persons 
were shut into the stifling atmosphere of the cabin, de- 
prived of the knowledge of what was going on above, except 
from the terrific sounds they heard. Estelle, on being shut 
into the cabin, announced that the Phoenician ship was 
taken by the vessels of Sesostris, but this did not afford any 
one else the same satisfaction as she appeared to derive 
from it. Babette and Rosette were echoing every scream 
of the crew, and quite certain that all w^ould be massacred, 
and little Ulysse, wakened by the hubbub, rolled round in 
his berth and began to cry. 

Mme. de Bourke, very white, but quite calm, insisted on 
silence and then said, ‘‘ I do not think the danger is very 
great to ourselves if you will keep silence and not attract 
attention. But our hope is in Heaven. My brother, will 
you lead our prayers? Recite our office. Obediently the 
abbe fell on his knees, and his example was followed by the 
others. His voice went monotonously on throughout with 
the Latin. The lad}", no doubt, followed in her heart, 
and she made the responses as did the others, fitfully; but 
her hands and eyes were busy, looking to the priming ol 
two small pistols, which she took out of her jewel case, and 
the sight of which provoked fresh shrieks from the maid& 
Mile. Julienne meantime was dressing Ulysse, and stand- 
ing guard over him, Estelle watching all with eager bright 
eyes, scarcely frightened, but burning to ask questions, 
from which her uncle ^s prayers debarred her. 


u 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


At the volley of shot. Rosette was reduced to quiet by a 
swoon, but Victorine, screaming that the wretches would 
have killed Laurent, would have rushed on deck, had not 
her mistress forcibly withheld her. There ensued a pro- 
digious yelling and howling, trampling and scuffling, then 
the sounds of strange languages in vituperation or com- 
mand, steps coming down the ladder, sounds of altercation, 
retreat, splashes in the sea, the feeling that the ship was 
l)ut about — and ever the trampling, the wild cries of ex- 
ultation, which over and over again made the prisoners feel 
choked with the horror of some frightful crisis close at 
hand. And all the time they Avere in ignorance, their little 
window in the stern showed them nothing but the sea; and 
even if Mme. de Bourke^s determination had not hindered 
Victorine from peeinng out of the cabin, whether j^rison or 
fortress, the Moorish sentries outside kept the door closed. 

How long this continued w^as scarcely to be guessed. It 
was hours by their own feelings; Ulysse began to cry from 
hunger, and his mother gave him and Estelle some cakes 
that were within reach. Mile. Julienne begged her lady to 
share the re2)ast, reminding her that she would need all her 
strength. The abbe, too, was hungry enough, and some 
wine and 2)reserved fruits coming to light, all the prisoners 
made a meal wdiich heartened most of them considerably; 
although the heat was becoming terrible, as the sun rose 
higher in the sky, and very little air could be obtained 
through the window, so that j^oor Julienne could not eat, 
and Rosette fell into a heavy sleep in the midst of her sighs. 
Even Estelle, who had got out her Telcmaque, like a sort 
of oracle in the course of being verified, was asleep over it, 
when fresh noises and grating sounds were heard, new steps 
on deck, and there were ste 23 S and voices. The Genoese 
captain w^as heard exclaiming, ‘‘Open, madame! you can 
do so safely. This is the Algerine captain, who is bound 
to 2)rotect you.^^ 

The maids huddled together behind their lady, who stood 
forward as the door opened to admit a stout, squarely-built 
man in the typical dress of a Turk — white turban, puiq^le 
coat, broad sash crammed with weaj^ons, and ample 
trousers — a truculent-looking figure which made the^maids 
shudder and embrace one another with suppressed shrieks, 
but which somehow, even in the midst of his Eastern 
salam, gave the countess a sense that he was acting a 


A MODEEK TELEMACHUS. 


45 


comedy, and carried her involuntarily back to the Moors 
whom she had seen in the Oid on the stage. And looking 
again, she perceived that though brown and weather- 
beaten, there was a certain Northern ruddiness inherent in 
his complexion ; that his eyes were gray, so far as they were 
visible between the surrounding puckers; and his eyebrows^ 
mustache, and beard not nearly so dark as the hair of the 
Genoese who stood cringing beside him as interpreter. She 
formed her own conclusions and adhered to them, though 
he S2)oke in bad Arabic to the skipper, who proceeded to 
explain that El Reis Hamed would offer no injury to Mme. 
la Comtesse, her suite or property, being bound by treaty 
between the Dey and the King of France, but that he re- 
quired to see her passport. There was a little blundering 
in the Italian's French rendering, and Mme. de Bourke 
was quick to detect the perception of it in the countenance 
of the Reis, stolid though it was. She felt no doubt that he 
was a renegade of European birth, and watched, with much 
anxiety as well as curiosity, his manner of dealing with her 
passports, which she would not let out of her own hand. 
She saw in a moment that though he let the Genoese begin 
to interpret them, his eyes were following it intelligently; 
and she hazarded the observation, ‘‘You understand, sir. 
You are Frank. 

He turned one startled glance toward the door to see if 
there were any listeners, and answered, “ Hollander, ma- 
dame.^^ 

The countess had traveled with diplomatists all her life, 
and knew a little of the vernacular of most languages, and 
it was in Dutch — broken, indeed, but still Dutch — that she 
declared that she was sure that she might rely on his pro- 
tection — a security which in truth she was far from feeling; 
for while some of these unfortunate men, renegades only 
from v/eakness, yearned after their corupatriots and their 
lost home and faith, others out-heroded the Moors them- 
selves in ferocity, especially toward the Christian captives; 
nor was a Dutchman likely to have any special tenderness 
in his composition, above all toward the French. However, 
there was a certain smile on the lips of Reis Hamed, and 
he answered with a hearty, “ Jal ja! madame. Upon my 
soul I will let no harm come to you or the pretty little 
ones, nor the young vrouwkins either, if they will keep 
close. You are safe by treaty. A Reis would have to pay 


46 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


a heavy reckoning with Mehemed Dey if a French embas- 
sador had to complain of him, and you will bear me wit- 
ness, madame, that I have not touched a hair of any of 
your heads 

‘‘I am sure you wish me well, sir,''^ said Mme. de 
Bourke, in a dignified way, but I require to be certified 
of the safety of the rest of my suite, my steward, my lackey, 
and my liusband^s secretary, a young gentleman of noble 
birth. 

“ They are safe, madame. This Italian slave can bear 
me witness that no creature has been harmed since my 
crew boarded this vessel. 

‘‘I desire then that they may be released, as being 
named in my passport. 

To this the Dutchman consented. 

Whereupon the skipper began to vvring his hands, and 
piteously to beseech madame to-intercede for him, but the 
Dutchman cut him short before she could speak. “ Dog 
of an Italian, the lady knows better! You and your fellows 
are our prize — poor enough after all the trouble you have 
given us in chasing you.^^ 

Mme. de Bourke spoke kindly to the poor man, telling 
him that though she could do nothing for him now, it was 
possible that she might when she should have rejoined her 
husband, and she then requested the Reis to land her and 
her suite in his long-boat on the Spanish coast, which could 
be seen in the distance, 'promising him ample reward if he 
would do so. 

To this he replied: Madame, you ask what would be 
death to me.^^ 

He went on to explain that if he landed her on Christian 
ground, without first presenting her and her passport to the 
Dey and the French Consul, his men might represent him 
as acting in the interests. of the Christians, and as a traitor 
to the Algerine power, by taking a bribe from a person 
belonging to a hostile state, in which case the bowstring 
would be the utmost mercy he could expect; and the reign- 
ing Dey, Mehemed, having been only recently chosen, it 
was impossible to guess how he might deal with such cases. 
Once at Algiers, he assured Mme. de Bourke that she 
would have nothing to fear, as she would be under the 
protection of the French Consul; and she had no choice 
but to submit, though much concerned for the continued 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 47 

anxiety to her husband, as well as the long delay and un- 
certainty of finding him. 

Still, when she perceived that it was inevitable, she com- 
plained no more, and the Dutchman went on with a certain 
bluff kindness — as one touched by her courtesy — to offer 
her the choice of remaining in the tartane or coming on 
board his larger vessel. The latter be did not recommend, 
as he had a crew of full two hundred Turks and Moors, 
and it would be necessary to keep herself and all her women 
as closely as possible secluded in the cabins; and even then, 
he added, that if once seen he could hardly answer for some 
of these corsairs not endeavoring to secure a fair young 
Frank girl for his harem ; and as his eye fell on Rosette, she 
bridled and liid herself behind Mile. J ulienne. 

He must, he said, remove all the Genoese, but he would 
send on board the tartane only seven men on whon> he 
could perfectly depend for respectful behavior, so that the 
captives would be able to take the air on deck as freely as 
before. There was no doubt that he was in earnest, and 
the lady accepted his offer with thanks, all the stronger 
since she and all around her were panting and sick for 
want of fresh air. 

It was a great relief when he took her on deck with him 
that she might identify the three men whom she claimed as 
belonging to her suite. Arthur, Lanty, and Hubert, who, 
in their vague knowledge of the circumstances, had been 
dreading the oar for the rest of their lives, could hardly be- 
lieve their good fortune when she called them up to her, 
and the abbe gripped Lanty^s arm as if he would never let 
him go again. The poor Italians seemed to feel their fate 
all the harder for the deliverance of these three, and sobbed, 
howled, and wept so piteously that Arthur wondered how' 
strong men could so give way, while Lanty ^s tears sprung 
forth in sympathy, and he uttered assurances and made 
signs that he would never cease to pray for their rescue. 

Though,^'’ as he observed, “ they were poor creatures 
that hadn't the heart of a midge, when there was such a 
chance of a fight while the haythen spalpeens were coming- 
on board." 

Here Lanty was called on to assist Hebert in identifying 
his lady's bales of goods, when all those of the unfortunate 
Genoese were put on board the corsair's vessel. A sail- 
cloth partition was extended across the deck by the care of 


48 


A MODER^^ TELEATACHUS. 


the Dutchman, “ who — as Lanty said — ‘^for a haythen 
apostate was a very daceiit man/'’ He evidently had a 
strong compassion and fellow-feeling for the Christian lady, 
and assured her that she might safely take the air and sit 
on deck as much as she pleased behind its shelter; and he 
likewise carefully selected the seven of his crew whom he 
sent on board to work the ship, the chief being a heavy- 
looking old Turk, with a chocolate-colored visage between 
a huge white beard and eyebrows, and the others mere 
lads, except one, who, from an indefinable European air 
about him, was evidently a renegade, and could speak a 
sort of French, so as to hold communication with the cap- 
tives, especially Lanty, who was much quicker than any of 
the rest in picking up languages, perhaps from having 
from his infancy talked French and English (or rather 
Irish), and likewise learned Latin with his foster-brother. 
This man was the only one permitted to go astern of the 
partition, in case of need, to attend to the helm; but the 
vessel was taken in tow by the corsair, and needed little 
management. The old Turk seemed to regard the Frank- 
ish women like so many basilisks, and avoided turning a 
glance in their direction, roaring at his crew if he only saw 
them approaching the sail-cloth, and keeping a close watch 
upon the lithe black-eyed youths, whose brown limbs car- 
ried them, up the mast with the agility of monkeys. There 
Avas one in especial — a slight, well-made fellow about 
twenty, with a white turban cleaner than the rest — who 
contrived to cast wonderful glances from the masthead 
over the barrier at Rosette, who actually smiled in return 
at ce pcmvre gar^on, and smiled the more for Mile. Juli- 
enne^s indignation. Suddenly, however, a shriil shout made 
him descend hastily, and the old Turk^s voice might be 
heard in its highest key, no doubt shrieking cut maledic- 
tions on all the ancestry of the son of a dog who durst de- 
file his eyes with gazing at the shameless daughters of the 
Frank. Little Ulysse was, however, allowed to disport 
himself wherever he pleased; and after once, under Arthur^s 
protection, going forward, he found himself made very wel- 
come, and alfored various curiosities, such as shells, corals, 
and a curious dried little hippocampus or sea-horse. 

This he brought back in triumph, to the extreme delight 
of his sister’s classical mind. Oh! mamma, mamma,’’ 
she cried, Ulysse really has got the skeleton of a Triton. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


49 


It is exactly like the stone creatures in the Champs 
Ely sees. 

There was no denying the resemblance, and it so in- 
creased the confusion in Estelle’s mind between the actual 
and the mythological, that Arthur told her that she was 
looking out for the car of Amphitrite to arise from the 
waters. Anxiety and trouble had made him much better 
acquainted with Mme. de Bourke, who was grateful to him 
^ for his kindness to her children, and not without concern 
as to whether she should be able to procure his release as 
well as her own at Algiers. For Laurence Callaghan she 
had no fears, since he was born at Paris, and a naturalized 
French subject like her husband and liis brother; but 
Arthur was undoubtedly a Briton, and unless she could 
pass him off as one of her suite, it would depend on the 
temper of the English Consul whether he should be viewed 
as a subject or as a rebel, or simply left to captivity until 
his Scottish relations should have the choice of ransoming 
him. 

She took a good deal of pains to explain the circum- 
stances to him as well as to all who could understand 
them; for though she hoped to keep all together, and to be 
able to act for them herself, no one could guess how they 
might be separated, and she could not shake off that fore- 
boding of misfortune which had haunted her from the first. 

The kingdom of Algiers was, she told them, tributary to 
the Turkish Sultan, who kept a guard of Janissaries there, 
from among whom they themselves elected the Dey. He 
was supposed to govern by the consent of a divan, but was 
practically as despotic as any Eastern sovereign; and the 
Aga of the Janissaries was next in authority to him. 
Piracy on the Mediterranean was, as all knew, the chief 
occupation of the Turks and Moors of any spirit or enter- 
prise, a Turk being in authority in each vessel to secure 
that the sultan had his share, and that the capture was so 
conducted as not to involve Turkey in dangerous wars with 
European powers. Capture by the Moors had for several 
centuries been one of the ordinary contingencies of a voy- 
age, and the misfortune that had happened to the party 
was not at all an unusual one. 

In 1687, however, the nuisance had grown to such a 
height that Admiral Du Quesne bombarded the town of 
Algiers, and destroyed all the fortifications, peace being 


50 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


only granted on condition that a French consul should re- 
side at Algiers, and that French ships and subjects should 
be exempt from this violence of the corsairs. 

The like treaties existed with the English, but had been 
very little heeded by the Algerines till recently, when the 
possession of Gibraltar and Minorca had provided harbors 
for British ships, which exercised a salutary supervision 
over these Southern sea-kings. The last Dey, Baba Hali, 
had been a wise and prudent man, anxious to repress out-** 
rage, and to be on good terms with the two great European 
powers; but he had died in the sjn’ing of the current year, 
17 and the temper of his successor, Mehemed, had not 
yet been proved. 

Mme. de Bourke had some trust in the Dutch Eeis, 
renegade though he was. She had given him her beautiful 
watch, set with brilliants, and he had taken it with a cer- 
tain gruff reluctance, declaring that he did not want it-— he 
was ready enough to serve her without such a toy. 

Kevertheless the lady thought it well to impress on each 
and all, in case of any separation or further disaster, that 
their appeal must be to the French Consul, explaining 
.minutely the forms in which it should be made. 

“ I can not tell you,^^ she said to Arthur, “ how great a 
comfort it is to me to have with me a gentleman, one of 
intelligence and education, to whom 1 can confide my poor 
children. 1 know you will do your utmost to protect them 
and restore them to their father. 

AVith my very hearths blood, madanie. ” 

I hope that may not be asked of you, monsieur, she 
returned with a faint smile — “ though I fear there may be 
much of perplexity and difficulty in the way before again 
rejoining him. You see where I have placed our pass- 
ports? My daughter knows it likewise; but in case of their 
being taken from you, or any other accident hapjDening to 
you, I have written these two letters, which you had better 
bear about your person. One is, as you see, to our consul 
at Algiers, and may serve as credentials: the other is to my 
husband, to whom I have already written respecting you. "" 
A thousand thanks, madame,^" returned Arthur. 

But I hope and trust we may all reach Monsieur le 
Comte in safety together. You yourself said that you ex- 
pected only a brief detention before he could be communi- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


51 


cated with^ and this captain, renegade though he be, evi- 
dently has a respect for you/’ 

‘‘ That is quite true,” she returned, and it may only 
be my foolish heart that forebodes evil; nevertheless, I can 
not but recollect that c^est Vunprenu qui arrive.” 

Tlien, madarne, that is the very reason there should be 
no misfortune,” returned Arthur. 

It was on the second day after the capture of the tartane 
that the sun set in a purple angry-looking bank of cloud, 
and the sea began to heave in a manner which renewed the 
earlier distresses of the voyage to such as were bad sailors. 
The sails both of the corsair and of the tartane were taken 
in, and it was plain that a rough night was to be expected. 
The children were lashed into their berths, and all prepared 
themselves to endure. The last time Arthur saw Mme. de 
Bourke’s face, by the light of the lamp swinging furiously 
from the cabin roof as he assisted in putting in the dead 
lights, it bore the same^ fixed expression of fortitude and 
resignation as when she was preparing to be boarded by the 
pirates. 

Jle remained on deck, but it was very perilous, for the 
vessel was so low in the water that the waves dashed over 
it so wildly that he could hardly help being swept away. 
It was pitch dark, too, and the lantern of the other vessel 
could only just be seen, now high above their heads, now 
sinking in the trough of the sea, while the little tartane 
was lifted up as though on a mountain; and in a kind of 
giddy dream, he thought of falling headlong upon her 
deck. Finally he found himself falling. Was he washed 
overboard? No; a sharp blow showed him that he had 
only fallen down the hatchway, and after lying still a mo- 
ment, he heard the voices of Lanty and Hebert, and pres- 
ently they were all tossed together by another lurch of the 
shi p. 

It was a night of miseries that seemed endless, and when 
a certain amount of light appeared, and Arthur and Lanty 
crawled upon deck, the tempest was unabated. They 
found themselves still dashed, as if their vessel were a mere 
cork, on the huge waves; rushes of water coming over 
them, whether from sea or sky there was no knowing, for 
all seemed blended together in one mass of dark lurid gray; 
and where was the Algerine ship — so lately their great 
enemy, now watched for as their guide and guardian? 


62 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


It was no place nor time for questions^, even could they 
have been heard or understood. It was scarcel}" possible 
even to be heard by one another^ and it was some time be- 
fore they convinced themselves that the large vessel had 
disappeared. Tlie cable must have parted in the night, 
and they were running with bare poles before the gale; the 
seamanship of the man at the helm being confined to avoid- 
ing the more direct blows of the waves, on the huge crests 
of which the little tartane rode — gallantly perhaps in mari- 
ners’ eyes, but very wretchedly to the feeimgs of the un- 
happy landsmen within her. 

Arthur thought of St. Paul, and remembered with dis- 
may that it was many days before sun or moon appeared. 
He managed to communicate his recollection to Lanty, who 
exclaimed, And he was a holy man, and he was a prison- 
er, too. He will feel for us if any man can in this sore 
strait! Sancte. Penile ora i)ro nohis. An’ haven’t I got the 
blessed scapulary about me neck that will bring me through 
worse than this?” 

The three managed to get down to tell the unfortunate 
inmates of the cabin what was the state of things, and to 
carry them some food, though at the exiiense of many falls 
and severe blows; and almost all of them were too faint or 
nauseated to be able to swallow such food as could survive 
the transport under such circumstances. Yet high-spirited 
little Estelle entreated to be carried on deck, to see what a 
storm was like. She had read of them so often, and wanted 
to see as well as to feel. She was almost ready to cry when 
Arthur assured her it was quite impossible, and her mother 
added a grave order not to trouble him. 

Mme. de Bourke looked so exhausted by the continual 
buffeting and the closeness of the cabin, and her voice was 
so weak, that Arthur grieved over the impossibility of giving 
her any air. Julienne tried to make her swallow some eau 
de vie, but the effort of steadying her hand seemed too 
much for her, and after a terrible lurch of the ship, which 
lodged the poor lonne in the opposite corner of the cabin, 
the lady shook her head and gave up the attempt. Indeed, 
she seemed so worn out that Arthur — little used to the 
sight of fainting— began to fear that her forebodings of 
dyiiig before she could rejoin her husband were on the 
point of being realized. 

However, the gale abating toward evening, and the 


A 5I0DERN TELEMACHUS. 


53 


youth himself was so much worn out that the first respite 
was spent in sleej). When he awoke, the sea was much 
calmer, and the eastern sun was rising in glory over it; the 
Turks, with their prayer carpets in a line, were simul- 
taneously kneeling and bowing in prayer, with their faces 
turned toward it. Lanty uttered an only too emphatic 
curse upon the misbelievers, and Arthur vainly tried to 
make him believe that their ‘‘ Allah il Allah was neither 
addressed to Mohammed nor the sun. 

“ Sure and if nol;, why did they make their obeisance, to 
it all one as the Persians in the big history-book Master 
Phelim had at school?’^ 

‘‘ It^’s to the east they turn, Lanty, not to the sun.^^ 

“ And what right have the hay then spalpeens to turn to 
the east like good Christians?^ ^ 

“ ^Tis to their prbphet^s tomb they look, at Mecca. 

‘‘ There, an^ I tould you they were no better than hay- 
theiis,"’"’ returned Lanty, “ to be praying and knocking their 
heads on the bare boards — that have as much sense as they 
have — to'a dead man^s tomb.^^ 

Arthur’s Scotch mind thought the Moors might have had 
the best of it in argument when he recollected Lanty’s trust 
in his scapulary. 

They tried to hold a conversation with the Reis, between 
lingua Franca and the Proven9al of the renegade; and they 
came to the conclusion that no one had the least idea where 
they were, or where they were going; the ship’s comj^ass 
had been broken in the boarding, and there was no chart 
more available than the little map in the beginning of Es- 
telle’s iDrecious copy of ^‘Telemaque. ” The Turkish Reis did 
not trouble himself about it, but squatted himself down 
with his chibouque, abandoning all guidance of the ship, 
and letting her drift at the will of wind and wave, or, as 
he said, the will of Allah. When asked where he thought 
she was going, he replied with solemn indifference, Kis- 
met;” and all the survivors of the crew — for one had been 
washed overboard — seemed to share his resignation. 

The only thing he did seem to care for was that if the in- 
fidel woman chose to persist in coming on deck, the canvas 
screen — wLich had been washed overboard — should be re- 
stored. This was done, and Mme. de Bourke w'as assisted 
to a couch that had been prepared for her with cloaks, 
where the air revived her a little; but she listened with a 


54 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


faint smile to the assurances of Arthur, backed by Hubert, 
that this abandonment to fate gave the best chance. They 
might either be picked up by a Christian vessel or go 
ashore on a Christian coast; but Mme. de Bourke did not 
build much on these hopes. She knew too well what were 
the habits of wreckers of all nations, to think that it would 
make much difference whether they were driven on the 
coast of Sicily or of Africa — “barring, ” as Lanty said, 

tliat they should get Christian buHal inthe former case. 

“We are in the hands of a good God: That at least we 
know,^^ said the countess. “ And He can bear us through, 
whether for life in Paradise, or trial a little longer here 
below. 

“ Like Blandina,'’"’ observed Estelle. 

“Ah! my child, who knows whether trials like even that 
blessed saint^s may not be in reserve even for your tender 
age. When I think of these miserable men, who have re- 
nounced their faith, I see what fearful ordeals there may 
be for those who fall into the hands of these unbelievers. 
Strong men have yielded. How may it not be with my 
poor children 

“ God made Blandina brave, mamma. I will pray that 
He may make me so. ^ 

Land was in sight at last. Purple mountains rose to the 
south in wild forms, looking strangely thunderous and red 
in the light of the sinking sun. A bay, witii rocks jutting 
out far into the sea, seemed to embrace them with its arms. 
Soundings were made, and presently the Eeis decided on 
anchoring. It was a rocky coast, with cliffs descending 
into the sea, covered with verdure, and the water beneath 
was clear as glass. 

“ Have we escaped the Syrtes to fall upon ^neas^s 
cave?^^ murmured Arthur to himself. 

“ And if we could meet Queen Dido, or may be Venus 
herself, Twould be no bad thing 1’^ observed Lanty, who 
remembered his Virgil on occasion. “ For there’s not a 
drop of wather left barring eau-de-vie, and if these Moors 
get at that, ’tis raving madmen they would be.” 

“ Do they know where we are?” asked Arthur. 

“ Sorrah a bit!” returned Lanty, “ tho’ ’tis a pretty 
place enough. If my old mother was here, ’tis her heart 
would warm to the mountains.” 

“ Is it Calypso’s Island?” whispered IJlysse to his sister. 


A MODERJS" TELEMACHUS. 


55 


‘SSee, wliat are they doing?” cried Estelle. “There 
are people — donT you see, white specks crowding down to 
the water. 

There was just then a splash, and two bronzed figures 
were seen setting forth from the tartane to swim to shore. 
The Turkish Keis had dispatched them, to ascertain 
whither the vessel had drifted, and who the inhabitants 
might be. 

A good while elapsed before one of these scouts returned. 
There was a great deal of talk and gesticulating round him, 
and Lanty, mingling with it, brought back word that the 
place was the Bay of Golo, not far from Djigheli, and just 
beyond the Algerine frontier. The people were Cabeleyzes, 
a wild race of savage dogs, which means dogs according to 
the Moors, living in the mountains, and independent of the 
Dey. A considerable number rushed to the coast, armed, 
and in great numbers, perceiving the tartane to be an Ital- 
ian vessel, and expecting a raid by Sicilian robbers on their 
cattle; but the Moors had informed them that it was no 
such thing, but a prize taken in the name of the Dey of 
Algiers, in which an illustrious French Bey^s harem was 
being conveyed to Algiers. From that city the tartane was 
now" about a day’s sail, having been driven to the eastward 
of it during the storm. “ The Turkish commander evi- 
dently does not like the neighborhood,” said Arthur, 
“ judging by his gestures.” 

“ Dogs and sons of dogs are the best names he has for 
them,” rejoined Lanty. 

“See! They have cut the cable! Are we not to wait 
for the other man who swam ashore?” 

So it was. A favorable wind was blowing, and the Reis, 
being by no means certain of the disposition of the Ca- 
beleyzes, chose to leave them behind him as soon as possi- 
ble, "and make his way to Algiers, wEich began to appear to 
his unfortunate passengers like a haven of safety. 

They w"ere not, however, out of the bay when the wind 
suddenly veered, and before the great lateen sail could be 
reefed, it had almost caused the vessel to be blown over. 
There was a pitching and tossing almost as violent as in the 
storm, and then wind and current began carrying the tar- 
tane toward the rocky shore. The Reis called the men to 
the oars, but their numbers were too few to be availing. 


56 


A MODERls^ TELEMACHUS. 


and ill a very few minutes more the vessel was driven hope- 
lessly toward a mass of rocks. 

Arthur, the abbe, Hebert, and Lanty were all standing 
together at the head of the vessel. The poor abbe seemed 
dazed, and kept dreamily fingering his rosary, and mur- 
muring to himself. The other three consulted in a low 
voice. 

“ Were it not better to have the women here on deck:^^ 
asked Arthur. 

Eh, nonE^ sobbed Master Hebert. ‘‘Let not my 
poor mistress see what is coming on her and her little 
ones!^^ 

“ Ah! Tis better, if the innocent creatures must be 
drowned, that it should be without being insensed of it till 
they wake in our Lady's blessed arms," added Lanty. 
“ Hark! and they are at their prayers." 

But just then Victorine rushed up from below, and 
throwing her arms round Lanty, cried, “ Oh! Laurent, 
Laurent. It is not true that it is all over with us, is it? 
Oh! save me! save me!" 

“ And if I can not save you, mine own heart's core, 
we'll die together," returned the poor fellow, holding her 
fast. “ It won't last long, Victorine, and the saints have 
a hold of my scajjulary. " 

He had . scarcely spoken when, lifted upon a wave, the 
tartane dashed upon the rocks, and there w’as at once a hor- 
rible shivering and crashing throughout her — a frightful 
mingling of shrieks and yells of despair with the wild roar 
of the waves that poured over her. The party at the head 
of the vessel were conscious of clinging to something, and 
when the first hurly-burly ceased a little they found them- 
selves all together against the bulwark, the vessel almost on 
her beam ends, wedged into the rocks, their portion high 
and dry, but the stern,, where the cabin was, entirely under 
water. 

Victorine screamed aloud, “ My lady! my poor lady." 

“ I see — I see something," cried Arthur, who had already 
thrown off his coat, and in another moment he had brought 
up Estelle in his arms, alive, sobbing and panting. Giving 
her over to the stew^ard, he made another dive, but then 
was lost sight of, and returned no more, nor was anything 
to be seen of the rest. Shut up in the cabin Mme. de 
Bourke, Ulysse, and the three rn jids must have been in- 


A MODERI^ TELE3t[ACHUS. 


57 


stall tly drowned;, and none of the crew were to be seen. 
Maitre Hebert held the little girl in his arms, glad that, 
though living, she was only half conscious. Victorine, sob- 
bing, hung heavily on Lanty, and before he could free his 
hands he perceived to his dismay that the abbe, unassisted, 
was climbing down from the wreck upon the rock, scarcely 
perhaps aware of his danger. 

Lanty tried to put Victorine aside, and called out, “ Youi\ 
-reverence, wait — Master Phelim, wait till I come and help 
you, But the girl,- frantic with terror, grappled him fast, 
screaming to him not to let her go — and at the same mo- 
ment a wave broke over the abbe.. Lanty, almost wild, 
was ready to leap into it after him, thinking he must be 
sucked back with it, but behold! he still remained clinging 
to the rock. Instinct seemed to serve him, for he had 
stuck his knife into the rock, and was holding on by it. 
There seemed no foothold, and while Lanty was deliberat- 
ing how to go to his assistance, another wave washed him 
off and bore him to the next rock which was only separated 
from tlie mainland by a cliannel of smoother water. He 
tried to catch at a floating plank, but in vain; however, an 
oar next drifted toward him, and by it he gained the land, 
but only to be instantly surrounded by a mob of Cabeleyzes, 
who seemed to be stripping off his garments. By this time 
many were swimming toward the wreck; and Estelle, who 
had recovered breath and senses, looked over Hebert ^s 
shoulder at them. The savages! the infidels!^’ she said. 

Will they kill me? or will they try to make me renounce 
my faith? They shall kill me rather than make me yield. 

"‘"Ah! yes, my dear demoiselle, that is right. That is 
the only way. It is my resolution likewise, returned 
Hebert.*^ “ God give us grace to persist. 

“My mamma said so, repeated the child. “Is she 
drowned, Maitre Hebert? 

“ She is happier than we are, my dear young lady.^’ 

“ And my little brother too! Ah! then I shall remem- 
ber that they are only sending me to them in Paradise. 

By this time the natives were near the wreck, and Estelle, 
shuddering, clung closer to Hebert; but he had made up 
his mind what do. “I must commit you to these men, 
mademoiselle,"' he said; “the water is rising— we shall 
perish if we remain here. " 

“Ah! but it would not hurt so much to be drowned," 


58 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


said Estelle, who had made up her mind to Blandina^s 
chair. 

‘‘I must endeavor to save you for your father, mademoi- 
selle, and your poor grandmother! There! be a good child! 
Do not struggle.^' 

He had attracted the attention of some of the swimmers, 
and he now flung her to them. One caught her by an arm, 
another by a leg, and she was safely taken to the shore, 
where at once a shoe and a stocking were taken from her, 
in token of her becoming a captive; but otherwise her gar- 
ments were not meddled with, in which she was happier 
than her uncle, whom she found crouched up on a rock, 
stripped almost to the skin, so that he shrunk from her, 
when she sprung to his side amid the Babel of wild men and 
women, who were shouting in exultation and wonder over 
his big flapped hat, his soutane and bands, pointing at his 
white limbs and yellow hair — or, what amazed them even 
more, Estelle '’s light, flaxen locks, which hung soaked 
around her. She felt a hand pulling them to see whether 
anything so strange actually grew on her head, and she 
turned round to confront them with a little gesture of de- 
fiant dignity that evidently awed them, for they kept their 
hands off her, and did not interfere as she stood sentry over 
her poor shivering uncle. 

Lanty was by this time trying to drag Victorine over the 
rocks and through the water. The poor Parisienne was 
very helpless, falling, hurting herself, and screaming con- 
tinually; and trebly, when a couple of natives seized upon 
her, and dragged her ashore, where they immediately 
snatched away her mantle and cape, pulled off her gold 
chain and cross, and tore out her ear-rings with howls of 
delight. 

Lanty, struggling on, was likewise pounced upon, and 
bereft of his fine green and gold livery coat and waistcoat, 
which, though by no means his best, and stained with the 
sea- water, were grasped with ecstasy, quarreled over, and 
displayed in triumph. The steward had secured a rope by 
which he likewise reached the shore, only to become the 
prey of the savages, who instantly made prize of his watch 
and purse, as well as of almost all his garments. The five 
unfortunate survivors would fain have remained huddled 
together, but the natives pointing to some huts on the hill- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


59 


side, urged them thither by the language of shouts and 
blows. 

“ Faith and I'm not an ox," exclaimed Lanty, as if the 
fellow could have understood him, ‘‘ and is it to the sham- 
bles you're driving me?" 

‘‘ Best not resist! There’s nothing for it but to obey 
them,” said the steward, “ and at least there will be shelter 
for the child. ” 

N o objection was made to his lifting her in his arms, and 
he carried her, as the party, half-drowned, nearly starved 
and exhausted, stumbled on along the rocky paths which 
cut their feet cruelly, since their shoes had all been taken 
from them. Lanty gave what help he could to the abbe 
and Victorine, who were both in a miserable plight, but ere 
long he was obliged to take his turn in carrying Estelle, 
whose weight had become too much for the wwn-out 
Hebert. He was alarmed to find, on transferring her, that 
her head sunk on his shoulder as if in a sleep of exhaustion, 
which, however, shielded her from much terror. For, as 
they aiTived at a cluster of five or six tents, built of clay 
and the branches of trees, out rushed* a host of women, 
children, and large fierce dogs, all making as much noise 
as they were capable of. The dogs flew at the strange 
white forms, no doubt utterly new to them. Victorine was 
severely bitten, and Lanty, trying to rescue her, had his leg 
torn. 

These two w^ere driven into one hut; Estelle, who \vas 
evidently considered as the greatest prize, was taken into 
another and rather better one, together with the steward 
and the abbe. The Moors, who had swmrn ashore, had 
probably told them that she was the Frankisli Bey’s daugh- 
ter; for this, miserable place though it Vas, appeared to be 
the best hut in the hamlet, nor was she deprived of her 
clothes. A sort of bo unloose or haik, of coarse textuie and 
very dirty, was given to each oL the o^ers, and some rye 
cakes haked in the ashes. Poor little Estelle turned away 
her head at first, but Hebert, alarmed at. her shivering in 
her wet clothes, contrived to make her swallow a little, and 
then took off the soaked dress, and wrapped her in the 
bournoose. She was by this time almost unconscious from 
weariness, and made no resistance to the unaccustomed 
hands, or the disgusting coarseness and uncleanness of her 
wrapper, but dropped asleep the moment he laid her down. 


GO 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


and he applied himself to trying to dry her clothes at a lit- 
tle fire of sticks that had been lighted outside the open 
space, round which the huts stood. 

The abbe too had fallen asleep, as Hebert managed to 
assure poor Lanty, who rushed out of the other tent, nearly 
naked, and blood-stained in many places, but more concerned 
at his separation from his foster-brother than at anything 
else that had befallen him. Men, women, children, and 
dogs were all after him, supposing him to be trying to es- 
cape, and he was seized upon and dragged l)ack by main 
force, but not before the steward had called out — 

Monsieur FAbbe sleeps — sleeps sound — he is not hurt! 
For HeaveiFs sake, Laurent, be quiet — do not enrago 
them! It is the only hope for him, as for mademoiselle 
and the rest of us. 

Lanty, on hearing of the abbess safety, allowed himself 
to be taken back, making himself, however, a passive dead 
weight on his captor^s hands. 

‘‘ Arrah,^^ he muttered to himself, ‘‘if ye will have me, 
ye shall have the throuble of me, bad luck to you. ^Tis 
little like ye are io the barbarous people St. Paul was 
throvyn with; but then what right have I to expect the 
treatment of a holy man, the like of him? If so be I can 
save that poor orphan thak’s left, and bring off Master 
Phelim safe, and save poor Yictorine from being taken for 
some dirty spalpeen^s wife, when he has half a dozen more 
to the fore — Tis little it matters what becomes of Lanty 
Callaghan; they might give him to their big brutes of 
dogs, and mighty lean meat they would find him!^’ 

So came down the first night upon the captives. 


CHAPTER V. 

CAPTIVITY. 

Hold fa?t thy hope and Heaven will not ^ 

Forsake thee in thine hour. 

Good tmgels will be near thee, 

And evil ones will fear thee, 

And Faith will give thee power. 

Southey. 

The whole northern coast of Africa is inhabited by a 
medley of tribes, all owning a kind of subjection to the 
sultan, but more in the sense of pope than of king. The 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


61 


part of the coast where the tartane had been driven on the 
rocks was beneath Mount Araz, a spur of the Atlas, and 
was in the possession of the Arab tribe called Cabeleyze, 
which is said to mean ‘‘ the revolted. The revolt had been 
from the Algerine power, which had never been able to 
pursue them into the fastnesses of the mountains, and they 
remained a wild independent race, following all those 
- Ishmaelite traditions and customs that are innate in the 
blood of the Arab. 

When Estelle awoke from her long sleep of exhaustion, 
she was conscious of a stifling atmosphere, and moreover of 
the crow of a. cock in her immediate vicinity, then of a dog 
growling, and a lamb beginning to bleat. She raised her- 
self a little, and beheld, lying on the ground around her, 
dark hea]3S with human feet protruding from th^. These 
were interspersed with sheep, goats, dogs, and fowls, all 
seen by the yellow light of the rising sun which made its 
way in not only through the clooiTess aperture, but through 
the reeds and branches which formed the walls. 

Close as the air was, she felt the chill of the morning and 
shivered. At the same moment she perceived poor Maitre 
Hebert covering himself as best he could with a dirty 
brown garment, and bending over her with much solicitude, 
but making signs to make as little noise as possible, while 
he whispered, How goes it with mademoiselle 

“ Ah,^^ said Estelle, recollecting herself, we are ship- 
wrecked. We shall have to confess our faith! Where are 
the restr^^ 

There is Monsieur EAbbe,^^ said Hebert, pointing to a 
white pair of the bare feet. “ Poor Laurent and Victorine 
have been carried elsewhere. 

“ And mamma? And my brother?'^ 

“Ah! mademoiselle, give the good God thanks that He 
has spared them our trial. 

“ Mamma! Ah, she was in the cabin the wat^r came 
in? But m-y brother! I had hold of his hand, he came out 
with me. I saw Monsieur AiTure swim away with him. 
Yes, Maitre Hebert, indeed I did. 

Hebert had not the least hope that they could be saved, 
but he would not grieve the child by saying so, and his 
present object was to get her dressed before any one was 
awake to watch, and perhaps appropriate her upper gar- 
ments. He was a fatherly old man, and she let him help 


62 


A MODERN TELEMAOHUS. 


her with her fastenings, and comb out her hair with the 
tiny comb in her etui. Indeed, frisettrs were the rule in 
France, and she was not unused to male attendants at the 
toilet, so that she was not shocked at being left to his 


care. 

For the rest, the child had always dwelt in an imaginary 
w^orld, a curious compound of the Lives of the Saints and 
of Telemaque. Martyrs and heroes alike had been ship- 
wrecked, taken captive, and tormented; and there was a 
certain sense of realized day-dream about her, as if she had 
become one of the number and must act up to her part. 
She asked Hebert if there were a Sainte Estelle, what was 
the day of the month, and if she should be placed in the 
Calendar if she never complained, do what these barbarians 
might to Jier. She hoped she should hold out, for she 
would like to be able to help all whom she loved, poor papa 
and all. But it was' hard that mamma, who was so good, 
could not be a martyr too; but she was a saint in Paradise 
all the same, and thus Estelle made her little prayer in 
hope. There was no conceit or overconfidence in the tone, 
though of course the poor child little knew what she was 
ready to accept; but it was a spark of the martyr’s trust 
that gleamed in her eye, and gave her a sense of exaltation 
that took off the sharpest edge of grief and'fear. 

By this time, however, the animals were stirring, and 
with them the human beings who had lain down in their 
clothes. Peace was over; the abbe awoke, and began to 
call for Laurent and his clothes and his beads; but this 
aroused the master of the house, who started up, and 
threatening with a huge stick, ro^’ed at him what must 
have been orders to be quiet. 

Estelle indignantly flew between and cried, You shall 
not hurt m.y uncle. ’ ’ 

The commanding gesture spoke for itself; and, besides, 
poor Phelim cowered behind her with an air that caused a 
word and sign to pass round, which the captives found was 
equivalent to innocent or ihibecile; and the Mohammedan 
respect and tenderness for the demented “Spared him all 
further violence or molestation, except that he was lost and 
miserable without tlie attentions of his foster-brother; and 
indeed the shocks he had undergone seemed to have robbed 
liini of much of the small degree of sense he had once 


A MODERN- TELE MACH US. 


63 


Coming into the space before the doorway, Estelle found 
herself the object of universal gaze and astonishment, as 
her long fair hair gleamed in the sunshine, every one com- 
ing to touch it, and even pull it to see if it was real. She 
was a good deal frightened, but too high-spirited to show it 
more than she could help, as the dark-skinned, bearded 
men crowded round with cries of wonder. • The other two 
prisoners likewise appeared: Victorine looking wretchedly 
ill, and hardly able to hold up her head; Lanty creeping 
toward the abbe, and trying to arrange* his remnant of 
clothing. There was a short respite, while the Arabs, all 
turning eastward, chanted their morning devotions with a 
solemnity that struck' tlieir captives. The scene was a fine 
one, if there had been any heart to admire. The huts were 
placed on the verge of a fine forest of chestnut and cork 
trees — and beyond towered up mountain peaks in every 
variety of dazzling color — red and purple beneath, glowing 
red aiid gold where the snowy peaks caught the morning 
sun, lately broken from behind them. The slopes around 
were covered with rich grass, flourishing after the summer 
heats, and to which the herds were now betaking them- 
selves, excepting such as were detained to be milked by the 
women, who came pouring out of some of the other huts 
in dark blue garments; and in front, still shadowed by the 
mountain, lay the bay, deep, beautiful, pellucid green near 
the land, and shut in by fantastic and j^icturesque rocks — 
some bare, some clothed with splendid foliage, winter 
though it was — while beyond lay the exquisite blue stretch- 
ing to the horizon. Little recked the poor prisoners of the 
scene so fair; they only saw the remnant of the wreck be- 
low, the sea that parted them from hope, the savage rocks 
behind, the barbarous people around, the squalor and dirt 
of the adowara, as the hamlet was called. 

Comparatively, the Moor who had swum ashore to recon- 
noiter seemed like a friend when he came forward and 
saluted Estelle and the abbe respectfully. Moreover, the 
lingua Franca Lanty had picked up established a very im- 
perfect double system of interpretation by the help of many 
gestures. This was Lanty ’s explanation to the rest: in 
French, of course, but, like all his speech, Irish-English in 
construction. 

This Moor, Hassan, wants to stand our friend in his 
own fashion, but he sa3^s they care not the value of an 


64 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


empty mussel-shell for the French, and no more for the 
Dey of Algiers than I do for the Elector of Hanover. He 
has told them that Monsieur FAbbe and mademoiselle are 
brother and daughter to a great Bey — but it is little the}" 
care for that. Holy Virgin, they took mademoiselle for a 
boy! That is why they are gazing at her so imijudently. 
Would that I could give them a taste of my cane! Do you 
see those broken walls, and a bit of a castle on yonder head- 
land jutting out into the sea? They are bidding Hassan say 
that the French built that, and garrisoned it with the help 
of the Dey; but there fell out a war, and these fellows, or 
their fathers, sur23rised it, sacked it, and carried off four 
hundred prisoners into slavery. Holy Mother defend us! 
Here are all the rogues coming to see what they will do 
with us!” 

For the open sj^ace in front of the huts, whence all the 
animals had now been driven, was becoming thronged with 
figures with the haik laid over their heads, spear or blun- 
derbuss in hand, fine bearing, and sometimes truculent, 
though handsome, brown countenances. They gazed at 
the captives, and uttered what sounded like loud hurrahs 
or shouts; but after listening to Hassan, Lanty turned 
round trembling. The miserables! Some are for sacri- 
ficing us outright on the spot, but this decent man declares 
that he will make them sensible that their jn’o^fiiet was not 
out and out as bad as that. Never you fear, made- 
moiselle.” 

‘‘ I am not afraid, said Estelle, drawing up her head. 
'‘We shall be martyrs.-’^ 

Lanty was engaged in listening to a moan from his foster- 
brother for food, and Hebert joined in observing that they 
might as well be sacrificed as starved to death; whereupon 
the Irishman's words and gesticulations induced the Moor 
to make representations which resulted in some dry j^ieces 
of samh cake, a few dates, and a gourd of water being 
brought by one of the women; a scanty amount for the 
number, even though poor Victorine was too ill to touch 
anything but the water; while the abbe seemed unable to 
understand that the servants durst not demand anything 
better, and devoured her share and a quarter of Lanty’ s as 
well as his own. Meantime the Cabeleyzes had all ranged 
themselves in rows, cross-legged on the ground, opposite to 
the five unfortunate captives, to sit in judgment on them. 


A MODER-N" TELEMACHUS. 65 

As they kept together in one group, happily in the shade of 
a hut, Victorine, too faint and sick fully to know what was 
going on, lay with her head on the lap of her young mis- 
tress, who sat with her bright and strangely fearless eyes 
confronting the wild figures opposite. 

Her uncle, frightened, though not comprehending the 
extent of his danger, crouched behind Lanty, who with 
Hebert stood somewhat in advance, the would-be guardians 
of the more helpless ones. 

There was an immense amount of deafening shrieking 
and gesticulating among the Arabs. Hassan was respond- 
ing, and finally turned to Lanty, when the anxious watchers 
could perceive signs as if paying down coins made interro- 
gatively. Promise them anything, everything, cried 
Hebert; “ Monsieur le Comte would give his last sou — so 
would Madame la Marquise — to save mademoiselle.^^ 

“I have told him so,^' said Laurence presently; ‘‘I 
bade him let them know it is little they can make of us, 
specially now tliey have stripped us as bare as themselves, 
the rascals! but that their fortunes would be made— and 
little they would know what to do with them — if they 
would only send Monsieur PAbbe and mademoiselle to 
Algiers safe and sound. There! he is trying to insense 
them. Never fear. Master Phelim, dear, there never was 
a rogue yet, black or white, or the color of poor madame's 
frothed chocolate, who did not love gold better than blood, 
unless indeed Twas for the sweet morsel of revenge; and 
these, for all their rolling eyes and screeching tongues, 
have not the ghost of a quarrel with us.^^ 

My beads, my breviary, sighed the abbe. Get 
them for me, Lanty. 

“ I wish they would end it quickly, said Estelle. My 
head aches so, and I want to be with mamma. Poor 
Victorine! yours is worse, she added, and soaked her 
handkerchief in the few drops of water left in the gourd to 
lay it on the maid^s forehead. 

The howling and shrieking betokened consultation, but 
was suddenly interrupted by some half-grown lads, who 
came running in with their hands full of what Lanty recog- 
nized to his horror as garments worn by his mistress and 
fellow-servants, also a big kettle and a handspike. They 
pointed down to the sea, and with yells of haste and exulta- 
tion all the wild conclave started up to snatch, handle, and 

3 


66 


A MODERIf TELEMACHUS. 


examine, then began rushing headlong to the beach» 
Hassan^s explanations were scarcely needed to show that 
they were about to ransack the ship, and he evidently took 
credit to himself for having induced them to spare the 
prisoners in case their assistance should be requisite to gain 
full possession of the plunder. 

Estelle and Victorine were committed to the charge of a 
forbidding-looking old hag, the mother of the sheik of the 
party; the abbe was allowed to stray about as he pleased, 
out the two men were driven to the shore by the eloquence 
of the club. Victorine revived enough for a burst of tears 
and a sobbing cry, “ Oh, they will be killed! We shall 
never see them again I 

No,^^ said Estelle, with her quiet yet child-like resolu- 
tion, “ they are not going to kill any of us yet. They said 
so. You are so tired, poor Victorine! Now all the hub- 
bub is over, suppose you lie still and sleep. My uncle,^^ 
as he roamed round her, mourning for his rosary, ‘‘ I am 
afraid your beads are lost; but see here, tliese little round 
seeds, I can pierce them if you will gather some more- for 
me, and make you another set. 8ee, these will be the 
Aves, and here are shells in the grass for the Paters. 

The long fiber of grass served for the string, and the 
sight of the Giaour girPs employment brought round her 
all the female population who had not repaired to the coast. 
Her first rosary was torn from her to adorn an almost 
naked baby; but the abbe began to whimper, and to her 
surprise the mother restored it to him. She then made 
signs that she would construct 'another necklace for the 
child, and she was rewarded by a gourd being brought to 
her full of milk, which she was able to share with her two 
companions, and which did something to revive poor Vic- 
torine. Estelle was kept threading these necklaces and 
bracelets all the wakeful hours of the day — for every one 
fell asleep about noon— though still so jealous a watch was 
kept on her that she was hardly allowed to shift her posi- 
tion so as to get out of the sun, which even at that season 
was distressingly scorching in the middle of the day. 

Parties were continually coming up from the beach laden 
with spoils of all kinds from the wreck, Lanty, Hebert, 
and a couple of negroes being driven up repeatedly, so 
heavily burdened as to be almost bent double. All was 
thrown down in a heap at the other end of the adowara. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


67 


and the old sheik kept guard over it, allowing no one to 
touch it. This went on till darkness was coming on, when, 
while the cattle were being collected for the night, the 
prisoners were allowed an interval, in which Hebert and 
Lanty told how the natives, swimming like ducks, had torn 
everything out of the wreck: all the bales and boxes that 
poor Maitre Hebert had secured with so much care, and 
many of which he was now forced himself to open for the 
pleasure of these barbarians. 

That, however, was not the worst. Hebert concealed 
from his little lady what Lanty did not spare Victorine. 

And there — enough to melt the heart of a stone — there 
lay on the beach poor Madame la Comtesse, and all the 
three. Good was it for you, Victorine, my jewel, that you 
were not in the cabin with them. 

“ I know not,^’ said the dejected Victorine; “ they are 
better off than we?” 

‘‘ You would not say so, if you had seen what I have,” 
said Lanty, shuddering. The dogs! — they cut off ma- 
dame^s poor white fingers to get at her rings, and not with 
knives either, lest her blessed fiesh should defile them, they 
said, and her poor face was an angeTs all the time. Nay, 
nor that was not the worst. The villainous boys, what 
must they do but pelt the poor swollen bodies with stones! 
Ay, well you may scream, Victorine. We went down on 
our knees, Maitre Hebert and I, to pray they might let us 
give them burial, but they mocked us, and bade Hassaii 
say they never bury dogs. I went round the steeper path, 
for all the load at my back, or I should have been flying at 
the throats of the cowardly vultures, and then what w'ould 
have become of Monsieur LAbber” 

Victorine trembled and wept bitterly for her companions, 
and then asked if Lanty had seen the corpse of the little 
Ohevalier. 

‘‘Not a sight of him or Monsieur Arthur either,” re- 
turned Lanty; “ only the ugly face of the old Turk captain 
and another of his crew, and them they buried decently, 
being Moslem hounds like themselves; while my poor lady 
that is a saint in heaven—” and he, too, shed tears of hot 
grief and indignation, recovering enough to warn Victorine 
by no means to let the poor young girl know of this ad- 
ditional horror. 

There was little opportunity, for they had been appropri- 


68 


A MODERK TELEMACHUS. 


ated by different masters: Estelle, the abbe, and Hebert to 
the sheik, or headman of the clan; and Lanty and Vic- 
torine to a big, strong, fierce-looking fellow, of inferior 
degree but greater might. 

This time Estelle was to be kept for the night among the 
sheikhs women, who, though too unsophisticated to veil 
their faces, had a part of the hut closed off with a screen 
of reeds, but quite as bare as the outside. Hebert, who 
could not endure to think of her sleeping on the ground, 
and saw a large heap of grass or straw provided for a little 
brown cow, endeavored to take an armful for her. Un- 
luckily it belonged to Lanty^s master, Eyoub, who instantly 
flew at him in a fury, dragged him to a log of wood, caught 
up an ax, and had not Estelle's screams brought up the 
sheik, with Hassan and one or two other men, the poor 
mattre cVhoteVs head would have been off. There was a 
sharp altercation between the sheik and Eyoub, while Es- 
telle held the faithful servant's hand, saying, “ You did it 
for me! Oh, Hebert, do not make them angry again. It 
would be beautiful to die for one's faith, but not for a 
handful of hay." 

“ Ay, my dear demoiselle, what would my poor ladies say 
to see you sleeping on the bare ground in a filthy hut?" 

“ I slept well last night," returned Estelle; ‘‘ indeed, I 
do not mind! It is only the more like the dungeon at 
Lyon, you know! And I pray you, Hebert, do not get 
yourself killed for nothing to soon, or else we shall not all 
stand out and confess together, like St. Blandina and St. 
Ponticus and St. Epagathius." 

“Alas, the dear cliild! The long names run off her 
tongue as glibly as ever," sighed Hebert, who, though de- 
termined not to forsake his faith, by no means partook her 
enthusiasm for martyrdom. Hassan, however, having ex- 
plained what the purpose had been, Hebert was pardoned, 
though the sheik scornfully observed that' what was good 
enough for the daughters of a hadji was good enough for 
the unclean child of the Frankish infidels. 

The hay might perhaps have spared a little stiffness, but 
it would not have ameliorated the chief annoyances — the 
closeness, the dirt, and the vermin. It was well that it 
was winter, or the first of these would have been far worse, 
and, fortunately for Estelle, she was one of those whom 
suffocating air rather lulls than rouses. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


69 


Eyoub^s hovel did not rejoice in the refinement of a par- 
tition, bat his family, together with their animals, lay on 
the rocky fioor as best they might; and Victorine's fever 
came on again, so that she lay in great misery, greeted by a 
growl from a great white dog whenever she tried to relieve 
her restless aching limbs by the slightest movement, or to 
reach one of the gourds of water laid near the sleepers, like 
SauEs cruse at his pillow. 

Toward morning, however, Lanty, who had been sitting 
with his back against the wall, awoke from the sleep well 
earned by acting as a beast of burden. The dog growled a 
little, but Lanty — though his leg still showed its teeth- 
marks — had made friends with it, and his hand on its head 
quieted it directly, so that he was able cautiously to hand a 
gourd to Victorine. The Arabs were heavy sleepers, and 
the two were able to talk under their breath; as, in reply 
to a kind word from Lanty, poor Victorine moaned her 
envy of the fate of Rosette and Babette; and he, with 
something of their little mistresses spirit, declared that he 
had no doubt but that “ one way or the other they should 
be out of it; either get safe home, or be blessed martyrs, 
without even a taste of purgatory. 

‘‘Ah! but there’s worse for me,” sighed Victorine. 
“ This demon brought another to stare in my face — I know 
he wants to make me his wife! Kill me first, Laurent.” 

“ It is I that would rather espouse you, my jewel,” re- 
turned a tender whisper. 

“ How can you talk of such things at such a moment?’^ 

“ ’Tis a pity Monsieur TAbbe is not a priest,” sighed 
Lanty. “But, you know, Victorine, who is the boy you 
always meant to take. ” . 

“ You need not be so sure of that,” she said, the coy 
c )quetry not quite extinct. 

“ Come, as you said, it is no time for fooling. Give me 
yjur word and troth to be my wife so soon as we have the 
good luck to come by a Christian priest by our Lady’s help, 
and I’ll outface them all — were it Mohammed the Prophet 
himself, that you are my espoused and betrothed, and woe 
to him that puts a finger on you. ” 

“ You would only get yourself killed.” 

“ And would not I be proud to be killed for your sake? 
Besides, I’ll show them cause not to kill me if I have the 
chance. Trust me, Victorine, my darling— it is but a 


70 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


ohance among these murdering villains, but it is the only 
one; and, suro, if you pretended to turn the back of your 
hand to me when there were plenty of Christian men to 
compliment you, yet you would rather have poor Lanty 
than a thundering rogue of a pagan Mohammedan./’ 

I hope I shall die,” sighed poor Victorine, faintly. 

It will only be your death!” 

‘‘ That is my affair,” responded Lanty. Come, here’s 
daylight coming in; reach me your hand before this canaille 
wakes, and here’s this good beast of a dog, and yonder 
grave old goat with a face like Pere Michel’s for our wit- 
nesses — and by good luck, here’s a bit of gilt wire off my 
shoulder-knot that I’ ve made into a coujde of rings while 
I’ve been speaking.” 

The strange betrothal had barely taken place before there 
was a stir, and what was no doubt a yelling imprecation on 
the dog Giaours ” for the noise they made. 

The morning began as before, with the exception that 
Estelle had established a certain understanding with a little 
chocolate-colored cupid of a boy of the size of her brother, 
and his lesser sister, by letting them stroke her hair, and 
showing them the mysteries of cat’s cradle. They shared 
their gourd of goat’s-milk with her, but would not let her 
give any to her companions. However, the abbe had only 
to hold out his hand to be fed, and the others were far too 
anxious to care much about their food. 

A much larger number of Cabeleyzes came streaming 
into the forum of the adowara, and the prisoners were all 
again placed in a row, while the new-comers passed before 
them, staring hard, and manifestly making personal re- 
marks which perhaps it was well that they did not under- 
stand. The sheik and Eyoub evidently regarded them as 
private property, stood in front, and permitted nobody to 
handle them, which was so far a comfort. 

Then followed a sort of council, with much gesticulation, 
in which Hassan took his share. Then, followed by the 
'sheik, Eyoub, and some other headmen, he advanced, and 
demanded that the captives should become true believers. 
This was eked out with gestures betokening that thus they 
would be free, in that case; while, if they refused, the 
sword and the smoldering flame were pointed to, while the 
whole host loudly shouted “ Islam!” 

Victorine trembled, sobbed, tried to hide herself; but 


A MODERI?' TELEMACIIUS. 


71 


Estelle stood up, her young face lighted up, her dark,eyes^ 
gleaming, as if she were r-eaiizing a day-dream, as she shook 
her head, cried out to Lanty, ‘‘ Tell him, no— never and 
held to her breast a little cross of sticks that she had been 
forming to complete her uncle^s rosary. Her gesture was 
understood. A man better clad than the rest, with a tur- 
ban. and a broad crimson sash, rushed up to her, seized her 
by the hair, and waved his cimeter over her head. The 
child felt herself close to her mother. She looked up in 
his face with radiant eyes and a smile on her lips. It 
absolutely daunted the fellow: his arm dropped, and he 
gazed at her like some supernatural creature; and the 
sheik, enraged at the interference with his property, darted 
forth to defend it, and there was a general wrangling. 

Seconded by their interpreter, Hassan, who knew that 
the Koran did not prescribe the destruction of Christians,. 
Hebert and Lanty endeavored to show that their conversion 
was out of the question, and that their slaughter would 
only be the loss of an exceedingly valuable ransom, which 
would be paid if they were handed over safe and sound and 
in good condition. 

There was no knowing what was the effect of this, for 
the council again ended in a rush to secure the remaining 
pillage of the wreck. Hebert and Lanty dreaded what they 
might see, but to their great relief those poor remains had 
disappeared. They shuddered as they remembered the 
hyenas^ laughs and the jackals^ howls they had heard at 
nightfall; but though they hoped that the sea had been 
merciful, they could even have been grateful to the animals 
that had spared them the sight of conscious insults. 

The wreck was finally cleared, and among the fragments 
were found several portions of books. These the Arabs 
disregarded, being too ignorant even to read their own 
Koran, and yet aware of the Mohammedan scruple which 
forbids the destruction of any scrap of paper lest it should 
bear the name of Allah. Lanty secured the greater part 
of the abbess breviary, and a good many pages of Estelle^s 
beloved Telemaque;^^ while the steward gained posses- 
sion of his writing-case, and was permitted to retain it 
when the Cabeleyzes, glutted with plunder, had ascertained 
that it contained nothing of value to them. 

After everything had been dragged up to the adowara,.. 
there ensued a sort of auction or division of the plunder. 


72 


A :hoi)i:kn ti:lExMACHUS. 


Poor Maitre Hebert was doomed to see. the boxes and bales 
he had so diligently watched broken open by these bar- 
barians — nay, he had to assist in their own dissection when 
the secrets were too much for the Arabs. There was the 
•King of Spain’s portrait rent from its costly setting and 
stamped upon as an idolatrous image. The miniature of 
the count, worn by the poor lady, had previously snared the 
same fate, but that happily was out of sight and knowl- 
•edge. Here was the splendid plate, presented by crowned 
heads, howled over by savages ignorant of its use. The 
silver they seemed to value; but there were three precious 
gold cups which the salt water had discolored, so that they 
were taken for copper and sold for a very small price'to a 
Jew, who somehow was attracted to the scene, “ like a 
raven to the slaughter,” said Lanty. 

This man likewise secured some of the poor lady’s store 
-of rich dresses, but a good many more were appropriated 
to make sashes for the men, and the smaller articles, in- 
cluding stockings, were wound turban fashion round the 
children’s heads. 

Lanty could not help observing, “ And if the saints are 
merciful to us, and get us out of this, we shall hav'e stories 
to tell that will last our lives!” as he watched the solemn 
old chief smelling to the perfumes, swallowing the rouge as 
splendid medicine, and finally fingering a snuff-box, while 
half a dozen more crowded round to assist in the opening, 
and in another moment sneezing, weeping, tingling, danc- 
ing frantically about, vituperating the Christian’s magic. 

This gave Laiity an idea. A little round box Jay near, 
which, as he remembered, contained a Jack-in-the-box, or 
Polichinelle, which the poor little chevalier had bought at 
the fair at Tarascon. This he contrived to secrete and 
hand to Victorine. “ Keep the secret,” he said, and you 
will find your best guardian in that bit of a box.” And 
when that very evening an Arab showed some intentions of 
adding her to his harem, Victorine bethought herself of the 
box, and unhooked it in desperation. Up sprung Punch, 
long-nosed and fur-capped, right in the bearded face. 

Back the man almost fell; Shaitan, Shaitan,” was the 
cry, as the inhabitants tumbled pell-mell out of the hovel, 
and Victorine and Punch remained masters of the situation. 

She heard Lanty haranguing in broken Arabic and 
lingua Franca, and presently he came in, shaking with 


A MODERK TELEMACIirS. 


73 


suppressed laughter. ‘‘If ever we get home/' said he, 
“ we'll make a pilgi-image to Tarascou! Blessings on good 
St. Martha that put that sweet little imp in my way! Tho 
rogues think he is the very genie that the fisherman let out 
of the bottle in mademoiselle's book of the ‘ Thousand and 
One Nights/ and. thought to see him towering over the- 
whole place. And a fine figure he would be with his hook 
nose and long beard. They sent me to beg you fairly to 
put up your little Shaitan again. I told them that Shaitan, 
as they call him, is always in it when there's meddling 
between an espoused pair — which is as true as though the 
Holy Father at Eome had said it — and as long as they were 
civil, Shaitan would rest; but if they durst molest you 
there was no saying where he would be if once you had to 
let him out! To think of the virtue of that ugly face and 
bit of a coil of wire!' ’ 

Meantime Hebert, having ascertained that both the Jew 
and Hassan were going away, the one to Constantina, the 
other to Algiers, wrote, and so did Estelle, to the consul at 
Algiers, explaining their position and entreating to be ran- 
somed. Though only nine years old, Estelle could write a 
very fair letter, and the amazement of the Arabs was un- 
bounded that any female creature should wield a pen* 
Marabouts and merchants were known to read the Koran, 
but if one of the goats had begun to write their wonder 
could hardly have been greater; and such crowds came to 
witness the extraordinary operation that she could scarcely 
breathe or see. 

It seemed to establish her in their estimation as a sort of 
supernatural being, for she was always treated with more 
consideration than the rest of the captives, never deprived 
of the clothes she wore, and allowed to appropriate a few 
of the toilet necessaries that were quite incomprehensible ta 
those around her. 

She learned the names for bread, chestnuts, dates, milk, 
and water, and these were never denied to her; and her 
little ingenuities in nursery games won the good-will of thfr 
women and children around her, though others used to 
come and make ugly faces at her, and cry out at her as an 
unclean thing. The abbe was allowed to wander about at 
will, and keep his hours, with Estelle to make the re- 
sponses, and sometimes Hebert. He was the only one that 
might visit the other two captives; Lanty was kept hard at 


7i 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


work over the crop of chestnuts that the clan had come 
down from their mountains to gather in; and poor Vic- 
torine, who was consumed by a low fever, and almost too 
weak to move, lay all day in the dreary and dirty hut, ex- 
pecting, but dreading death. 

Some days later there was great excitement, shouting, 
:and rage. It proved that the Bey of Oonstantina had sent 
to demand the party, threatening to send an armed force 
to compel their surrender; but, alas! the hope of a return 
to comparative civilization was instantly quashed, for the 
«heik showed himself furious. He and Eyoub stood bran- 
dishing their cimeters, and with eyes flashing like a pan- 
ther’s in the dark, declaring that they were free, no sub- 
jects of the Dey nor the Bey either; and that they would 
shed the blood of every one of the captives rather than 
yield them to tlie dogs and sons of dogs at Constantina. 

This embassy only increased the jealousy with which the 
prisoners were guarded. None of them were allowed to stir 
without a man with a halbert, and they had the greatest 
difficulty in intrusting a third letter to the Moor in com- 
mand of the party. Indeed, it was only managed by Es- 
telle’s coaxing of the little Abou Daoud, who was growing 
devoted to her, and would do anything for the reward of 
hearing her sing Malbrook s^en va-t-en guerre. 

It might have been in consequence of this threat of the 
Bey, much as they affected to despise it, that the Cabeleyzes 
prepared to return to the heights of Mount Araz, whence 
they had only descended during the autumn to find fresh 
pasture for their cattle, and to collect dates and chestnuts 
from the forest. 

‘VAlasI” said Hebert, “this is worse than ever. As 
long as we were near the sea, I had hope, but now all trace 
of us will be lost, even if the consul should send after us.” 

“ Never fear, Maitre Hebert,” said Estelle; “ you know 
Telemaque was a prisoner, and tamed the wild peasants in 
Egypt." 

“ Ah! the poor demoiselle, she always seems as if she 
'were acting a comedy.” 

This was happily true. Estelle seemed to be in a curious 
manner borne through the dangers and discomforts of her 
surroundings by a strange dreamy sense of living up to her 
part, sometimes as a possible martyr, sometimes as a figure 


A MODERI^ TELEMACHUS. 


75 


in the mythological or Arcadian romance that had filtered 
into her nursery. 


CHAPTER VI. 

A MOORISH VILLAGE. 

Our laws and our worship on thee thou shalt take, 

And this shalt thou first do for Zulema’s sake. 

Scott. 

When Arthur Hope dashed back from the party on the 
prow of the wrecked tartane in search of little TJlysse, he 
succeeded in grasping the child, but at the same moment a 
huge breaker washed him off the slipperily-sloping deck,, 
and after a scarce conscious struggle he found himself, still 
retaining his clutch of the boy, in the trough between it 
and another. He was happily an expert swimmer, and 
holding the little fellow^s clothes in his teeth, he was able 
to avoid the dash, and to rise on another wave.. • Then he 
perceived that he was no longer near the vessel, but had 
been carried out to some little distance, and his efforts only 
succeeded in keeping afloat, not in approaching the shore. 
Happily a plank drifted so near him that he was able to 
seize it and throw himself across it, thus obtaining some 
support, and being able to raise the child further above the 
water. 

At the same time he became convinced that a strong cur- 
rent, probably from a river or stream, was carrying him 
out to sea, away from the bay. He saw the black heads of 
two or three of the Moorish crew floating on spars, and 
yielding themselves to the stream, and this made him bet- 
ter satisfied to follow their example. It was a sort of rest, 
and gave him time to recover from the first exhaustion, to 
convince himself that the little boy was not dead, and to 
lash him to the plank with a handkerchief. 

By and by — he knew not how soon — calls and shouts 
passed between the Moors; only two seemed to survive, and 
they no longer obeyed the direction of the current, but 
turned resolutely toward the land, where Arthur dimly saw 
a green valley opening toward the sea. This was a much 
severer effort, but by this time immediate self-preservation 
had become the only thought, and happily both wind and 
the very slight tide were favorable, so that, just as the sun 


76 


A MODEEN TELEMACHUS. 


sunk beneath the western waves, Arthur felt foothold on a 
sloping beach of white sand, even as his powers became 
exhausted. He struggled up out of reach of the sea, and 
then sunk down, exhausted and unconscious. 

His first impression was of cries and shrieks round him, 
as he gasped and panted, then saw as in a dream forms hit- 
ting round him, and then — feehng for the child and missing 
him — he raised himself in consternation, and the movement 
was greeted by fresh unintelligible exclamations, while a 
not unkindly hand lifted him up. It belonged to a man in 
a sort of loose white garment and drawers, with a thin dark- 
heard ed face; and Arthur, recollecting that the Spanish 
word nino passed current for child in lingua Franca, ut- 
tered it with an accent of despairing anxiet}^ He was an- 
swered with" a volley of words that he only understood to be 
in a consoling tone, and the speaker pointed inland. Vari- 
ous persons seemed to be going in that direction, and he 
obeyed his guide, though scarcely able to move from ex- 
haustion nnd cold, the garments he had retained clinging 
about him. Some one, however, ran down toward him 
with a vessel containing a draught of sour milk. This re- 
vived him enough to see clearly and follow his guides. 
After walking a distance, which appeared to him most 
laborious, he found himself entering a sort of village, and 
was ushered through a court-yard into a kind of room. In 
the center a fire was burning; several figures were busy 
round it, and in another moment he perceived that they 
were rubbing, chafing, and otherwise restoring his little 
companion. 

Indeed Ulysse had just recovered enough to be terribly 
frightened, and as his friend’s voice answered his screams, 
he sprung from the kind brown hands, and, darting on Ar- 
thur, clung to him with face hidden on his shoulder. The 
woman who had been attending to him fell back as the white 
stranger entered, and instantly dry clothes were brought, 
and while Arthur was warming himself and putting them 
on, a little table about a foot high was set, the contents of 
a caldron of a kind of soup which had been suspended 
over the fire were poured into a large round green crock, 
and in which all were expected to dip their spoons and fin- 
gers. Little Ulysse was exceedingly amazed, and observed 
that ces gens were not bien Sieves to eat out of the dish; but 
he was too hungry to make any objection to being fed with 


A .MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


77 


the wooden spoon that had been handed to Arthur; and 
when the warm soup, and the meat floating in it, had re- 
freshed them, signs were made to them to lie down on a 
mat within an open door, and both were worn out enough 
to sleep soundly. 

It was daylight when Arthur was awakened by poor lit- 
tle Ulysse sitting up and crying out for his bonne, his 
mother, and sister. “ Oh! take me to them,^^ he cried; ‘‘ I 
do not like this dark place. 

For dark the room was, being windowless, though the 
golden sunlight could be seen beyond the open doorway, 
which was under a sort of cloister or veranda overhung by 
some climbing plant. Arthur, collecting himself, remind- 
ed the child how the waves had borne them away from the 
rest, with earnest soothing promises of care, and endeavor- 
ing to get back to the rest. ‘‘ Say your prayers that God 
will take care of you and bring you back to your sister, 
Arthur added, for he did not think it possible that the 
child ^s mother should have been saved from the waves; and 
his heart throbbed at thoughts of his promise to the poor 
lady. 

“ But I want my sighed Ulysse; “I want my 

clothes. This is an ugly robe de miit, and there is no bed.^^ 

‘^Perhaps we may And your clothes,'^ said Arthur. 
“ They were too wet to be kept on last night. 

So they emerged into the court, which had a kind of 
farm-yard appearance; women with rows of coins hanging 
over their brows were milking cows and goats, and there 
was a continuous confusion of sound of their voices, and 
the lowing and bleating of cattle. At the appearance of 
Arthur and the boy, there was a general shout, and people 
seemed to throng in to gaze at them, the men handsome, 
stately, and bearded, with white full drawers, and a bur- 
noose laid so as first to form a flat hood over the head, and 
then belted in at the waist, with a more or less handsome 
sash, into which were stuck a spoon and knife, and in some 
cases one or two pistols. They did not seem ill-disposed, 
though their language was perfectly incomprehensible. 
Ulysse^s clothes were lying dried by the hearth, and no ob- 
jection was made to his resuming them. Arthur made 
gestures of washing or bathing, and was conducted outside 
the court, to a little stream -of pure water descending 
rapidly to the sea. It was so cold that Ulysse screamed at 


78 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


the touch, as Arthur, with more spectators than he could 
have desired, did his best to perform their toilets. He had 
divested himself of most of his own garments for the con- 
venience of swimming, but his pockets were left and a comb 
in them; and though poor Mile. Julienne would have been 
shocked at the result of his etforts, and the little silken 
laced suit was sadly tarnished with sea-water, Ulysse be- 
came such an astonishing sight that the children danced 
round him, and women screamed with wonder, and the 
men said “MashallahT^ The young Scotsman's height 
was perhaps equally amazing, for he saw them pointing up 
to his head as if measuring his stature. 

He saw that he was in a village of low houses, with walls 
of unhewn stone, inclosing yards, and set in the midst of 
fruit-trees and gardens. Though so far on in the autumn 
there was a rich luxuriant appearance; roots and fruits, 
corn and flax, were laid out to dry, and girls and boys were 
driving the cattle out to pasture. He could not doubt that 
he had landed among a settled and not utterly uncivilized 
people, but he was too spent and weary to exert himself, 
or even to care for much beyond present safety; and had no 
sooner returned to his former quarters, and shared with 
Ulysse a bowl of curds, than they both fell asleep again in 
the shade of the gourd plant trained on a trellised roof over 
the wall. 

When he next awoke, Ulysse was very happily at play 
with some little brown children, as if the sports of child- 
hood defied the curse of Babel, and a sailor from the tar- 
tane was being greeted by the master of the house. Arthur 
hoped that some communication would now be possible, 
but, unfortunately, the man knew very little of the lingua 
Franca of the Mediterranean, and Arthur knew still less. 
However, he made out that he was the only one of the ship- 
wrecked crew who had managed to reach the land, and 
that this was a village of Moors — settled agricultural Moors, 
not Arabs, good Moslems — who would do him no harm. 
This, and he pointed to a fine-looking elderly man, was the 
sheik of the village, Abou Ben Zegri, and if the young 
Giaours would conform to the true faith all would be Salem 
with them. Arthur shook his head, and tried by word and 
sign to indicate his anxiety for the rest of his companions^ 
The sailor threw up his hands, and pointed toward the sea, 
to show that he believed them to be all lost; but Arthur 


A MODERN- TELEMACHUS. 


79 


insisted that five — marking them off on his fingers — were 
on gebal, a rock, and emphatically indicated his desire of 
reaching them. The Moor returned the word “ Ca- 
beleyzes,-’^ with gestures signifying throat-cutting and 
slavery, also that these present hosts regarded them as ban- 
ditti. How far off they were it was not possible to make 
out, for of course Arthur’s own sensations were no guide; 
but he knew that the wreck had taken place early in the 
afternoon, and that he had come on shore in the dusk, 
which was then at about five o’clock. There w^as certainly 
a promontory, made by the ridge of a hill, and also a river 
between him and any survivors there might be. 

This was all that he could gather, and he was not sure of 
even thus much, but he was still too much wearied and bat- 
tered for any exertion of thought or even anxiety. Three 
days’ tempest in a cockle-shell of a ship, and then three 
hours’ tossing on a plank, had left him little but the desire 
of repose, and the Moors were merciful and let him alone. 
It was a beautiful place — that he already knew. A Scot, 
and used to the sea-coast, his eye felt at home as it ranged 
to the grand heights in the dim distance, with winter caps of 
snow, and shaded in the most gorgeous tints of coloring for- 
ests beneath, slopes covered with the exquisite green of young 
wheat. Autumn though- it was, the orange-trees, laden 
with fruit, the cork-trees, ilexes, and fan-palms, gave plenty 
of greenery, shading the gardens with prickly pear hedges; 
and though many of the fruit-trees had lost their leaves, 
fig, peach, and olive, and mulberry, caper plants, vines 
with foliage of every tint of red and puiqole, which were 
trained over the trellised courts of the houses, made every- 
thing have a look of rural plenty and peace, most unlike 
all that Arthur had ever heard or imagined of the Moors, 
who, as he owned to himself, were certainly not all savage 
pirates and slave-drivers. The whole within was surround- 
ed by a stone wall, with a deep horseshoe-arched gate-way, 
the fields and pastures lying beyond with some more slight- 
ly walled inclosures meant for the protection of the flocks 
and herds at night. 

He saw various arts going on. One man was working in 
iron over a little charcoal fire, with a boy to blow up his 
bellows, and several more were busied over some pottery, 
while, the women alternated their grinding between two 
mill-stones, and other domestic cares, with spinning, weav- 


80 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


ing, and beautiful embroidery. To Arthur, who looked 
on, with no one to speak to except little Ulysse, it was 
strangely like seeing the life of the Israelites in the Old 
Testament when they dwelt under their own vines and fig- 
trees — like reading a chapter in the Bible, as he said to 
himself, as again and again he saw some allusion to Eastern 
customs illustrated. He was still more struck — when, 
after the various herds of kine, sheep, and goats, with one 
camel, several asses, and a few slender-limbed Barbary 
horses had been driven in for the night — by the sight of 
the population, as the sun sunk behind the mountains, all 
suspending whatever they were about, spreading their 
prayer carpets, turning eastward, performing their ablu- 
tions, and uttering their brief prayer with one voice so de- 
voutly that he was almost struck with awe. 

‘‘Are they saying their prayers?” whispered Ulysse, 
startled by the instant change in his playfellows, and as 
Arthur acquiesced, “ Then they are good.'’^ 

“ If it were the true faith,” said Arthur, thinking of the 
wide difference between tliis little fellow' and Estelle; but 
though not two years younger, Ulysse was far more child- 
ish than his sister, and when she was no longer present te 
lead him with her enthusiasm, sunk at once to his own 
level. He opened wide his eyes at. Arthur’s reply, and said,, 
“ I do not see their idols. ” 

“They have none,” said Arthur, who could not help 
thinking that Ulysse might look nearer home for idols — 
but chiefly concerned at the moment to keep the child 
quiet, lest he should bring danger on them by interruption. 

They were sitting in the embowered porch of the sheik’s 
court when, a few seconds after the villagers had risen 
from their prayer, they saw a figure enter at the village 
gate- way, and the sheik rise and go forward. There w^ere 
low bending in salutation, hands placed on the breast, then 
kisses exchanged, after which the Sheik Abou Ben Zegri 
went out with the stranger, and great excitement and pleas- 
ure seemed to prevail among the villagers, especially the 
women. Arthur heard the word “ Yustif ” often repeated, 
and by the time darkness had fallen on the village, the sheik 
ushered the guest into his court, bringing with him a don- 
key with some especially precious load — which was re- 
moved; after wEich the supper was served as before in the. 
large low apartment, wdtli a handsomely tiled floor, and an. 


A MODEKK TELEJilACHUS. 


81 


opening in the roof for the issue of the smoke from the hre, 
which became agreeable in the evening at this season. Be- 
fore supper, however, the stranger^s feet and hands were 
washed by a black slave in Eastern fashion; and then all, 
as before, sat on mats or cushions round the central bowl, 
each being furnished with a spoon and thin flat soft piece 
of bread to dip into the mess of stewed kid, flakes of which 
might be extracted with the fingers. 

The women, who had fastened a piece of linen across 
their faces, ran about and waited on the guests, who in- 
cluded three or four of the principal men of the village, as 
well as the stranger, who, as Arthur observed, was not of 
the uniform brown of the rest, but had some color in his 
cheeks, light eyes, and a ruddy beard, and also was of a 
larger frame than these Moors, who, though graceful, lithe, 
and exceedingly stately and dignified, hardly reached above 
young Hope^s own shoulder. Conversation was going on 
all the time, and Arthur soon perceived that he was the 
subject of it. As soon as the meal was over, the new-comer 
addressed him, to his great joy, in French. It was the 
worst French imaginable — perhaps more correctly lingua 
Franca y with a French instead of an Arabic foundation, 
but it was morer' comprehensible than that of the Moorish 
sailor, and bore some relation to a civilized language; be- 
sides which there was something indescribably familiar in 
the tone of voice, although Arthur’s good French often 
missed of being comprehended. 

“ Son of a great man? Embassador, French!” The 
greatness seemed impressed, but whether embassador was 
understood was another thing, though it was accepted as 
relating to the boy. 

‘‘ Secretary to the embassador” seemed to be an equal 
problem. The man shook his head^ but he took in better 
the story of the wreck, though, like the sailor, he shook his 
head over the chance of there being any survivors, and ut- 
terly negatived the idea of joining them. The great point 
that Arthur tried to convey was that there would be a very 
considerable ransom if the child could be conveyed to> 
Algiers, and he endeavored to persuade the stranger, who- 
was evidently a sort of traveling merchant, and, as he began 
to suspect,, a renegade, to convey them thither; but he only- 
got shakes of the head as answers, and something to the; 
effect that they were a good deal out of the Dey’s reach in. 


82 


A MODEKK TELEMACHUS. 


those parts, together with what he feared was an intimation 
that they were altogether in the power of Sheik Abou Ben 
Zegri. 

They were interrupted by a servant of the merchant, who 
came to bring him some message as well as a pipe and 
tobacco. The pipe was carried by a negro boy, at sight of 
whom Ulysse gave a cry of ecstasy. ‘‘Juba! Juba! grand- 
mother’s Juba! Why do not you speak to me?” as the lit- 
tle black, no bigger than Ulysse himself, grinned with all 
his white teeth, quite uncomprehending. . 

“ Ah! my poor laddie,” exclaimed Arthur in his native 
tongue, which he often used with the boy, “ it is only another 
negro. You are far enough from home.” 

The words had an astonishing effect on the merchant. 
He turned round with the exclamation, “Ye’ll be frae 
Scotland!” 

“ And so are you!” cried Arthur, holding out his hand. 

“ Tak tent, tak tent,” said the merchant hastily, yet 
with a certain hesitation, as though speaking a long un- 
familiar tongue. “ The loons might jalouse our being 
overfriendly thegither.” 

Then he returned to the sheik, to whom he seemed to be 
making explanations, and presenting some of his tobacco, 
which probably was of a superior quality in preparation to 
what was grown in the village. They solemnly smoked 
together and conversed, while Arthur watched them anx- 
iously, relieved that he had found an interpreter, but very 
doubtful whether a renegade could be a friend, even though 
he were indeed a fellow-countryman. 

It was not till several pipes had been consumed, and the 
village worthies had, with considerable ceremony, taken 
leave, that the merchajit again spoke to Arthur. “ I’ll 
see ye the morn; I hae tell’d the sheik we are frae the 
same parts. May be I can serve you, if ye ken what’s for 
your guid, but I can ha say mair the noo. ” 

The sheik escorted him out of the court, for he slept in 
one of the two striped horse-hair tents, which had been 
spread within the inclosures belonging* to the village, 
around which were tethered the mules and asses that 
carried his wares. Arthur meanwhile arranged his little 
charge for the night. 

He felt that among these enemies to their faith he must 
do what was in his power to keep uj) that of the child, and 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


85 


not allow his prayers to be neglected; but not being able 
to repeat the Latin forms, and thinking them unprofitable 
to the boy himself, he prompted the saying of the Creed 
and Lord^s Prayer in Enghsh, and caused them to be re- 
peated after him, though very sleepily and imperfectly. 

All the men of the establishment seemed to take their 
night’s rest on a mat, wrapped in a burnoose, wherever 
they chanced to find themselves, provided it was under 
shelter; the women in some penetralia beyond a door- way, 
though they were not otherwise secluded, and only partially 
veiled their faces at sight of a stranger. Arthur had by 
this time made out that the sheik, who was a very hand- 
some man over middle-age, seemed to have two wives; one 
probably of his own age, and though withered up into a 
brown old mummy, evidently the ruler at home, wearing 
the most ornaments, and issuing her orders in a shrill, 
cracked tone. There was a much younger and handsome 
one, the mother apparently of two or three little girls from 
ten or twelve years old to five, and there was a mere girl, 
with beautiful melancholy gazelle-like eyes, and a baby in 
her arms. She wore no ornaments, but did not seem to be 
classed with the slaves who ran about at the commands of 
the elder dame. 

However, his own position was a matter of much more 
anxious care, although he had more hope of discovering 
what it really was. 

He had, however, to be patient. The sunrise orisons 
were no sooner paid than there was a continual resort to the 
tent of the merchant, who was found sitting there calmly 
smoking his long pipe," and ready to offer the like, also a 
cup of coffee, to all whg came to traffic with him. He 
seemed to have a miscellaneous stock of coffee, tobacco, 
pipes, preparations of sugar, ornaments in gold and silver, 
jewelry, charms, pistols, and a host of other articles in 
stock, and to be ready to purchase or barter these for the 
wax, embroidered handkerchiefs, yarn, and other produc- 
tions and manufactures of the place. Not a single pur- 
chase could be made on either side v\^ithout a tremendous 
haggling, shouting, and gesticulating, as if the parties were 
on the verge of coming to blows; whereas all was in good 
fellowship, and a pleasing excitement and diversion where 
time was of no value to anybody. Arthur began to despair 
of ever gaining attention. He was allowed to wander about 


84 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


as he pleased within the village gates, and Ulysse was ap- 
parently quite happy with the little children, who were 
beautiful and active, although kept dirty and ragged as a 
protection from the evil eye. 

Somehow the engrossing occupation of every one, espe- 
cially of the only two creatures with whom he could con- 
verse, made Arthur more desolate than ever. He lay down 
under an ilex, and his heart ached with a sick longing he 
had not experienced since he had been with the Nithsdales, 
for his mother and his home — the tall narrow-gabled house 
that had sprung up close to the grim old peel tower, the 
smell of the sea, the tinkling of the burn. He fell asleep 
in the heat of the day, and it was to him as if he were once 
more sitting by the old shgpherd on the brae-side, hearing 
him tell the old tales of Johnnie Armstrong or Willie o^ 
the wudspurs. 

Actually a Scottish voice was in his ears, as he looked up 
and saw the turbaned head of Yusuf the merchant bending 
over him, and saying — 

“ Wake up, my bonny laddie; we can hae our crack in 
peace while these folks are taking their noonday sleep. 
Aweel, and where are ye frae, and how do you ca'’ yerseF?^^ 

‘‘ I am from Berwickshire,^^ responded the youth, and as 
the man started — “ My name is Arthur Maxwell Hope, of 
Burnside. 

“Eh! Ho son of auld Sir Davier^^ 

“His youngest son.^^ 

. The man clasped his hands, and uttered a strange sound 
as if in the extremity of amazement, and there was a curi- 
ous unconscious change of tone, ^s he said — 

“ Sir Daviess son! YeTl never have heard tell of Partan 
Jeannie?^'’ he added. 

“ A very old fish- wife, said Arthur, “ who used to come 
her rounds to our door? Was she of kin to you?^'’ 

“ My mither, sir. Mony’s the time I have peepit out on 
the cuddie^s back between the creels at the door of the braw 
house of Burnside, and mony^s the bannock and cookie the 
glide lady gied me. My minnie fil no be living thae noo,^^ 
he added, not very tenderly. 

“ I should fear not,^^ said Arthur. “ I had not seen or 
heard of her for some time before I left home, and that is 
now three years since. She looked very old then, and I 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 85 

remember my mother saying she was not fit to come her 
rounds/^ 

‘‘ She wasna that auld/^ returned the merchant gravely; 
"‘but she had led sic a life as falls to the lot of nae wife in 
this country/^ 

Arthur had almost said, “ Whose fault was that?^^ but 
he durst not offend a possible protector, and softened his 
words into, “ It is strange to find you here, and a Moham- 
medan too. 

“ Hoots, JVEaister Arthur, let that fiea stick by the wa^,^ 
We maun do at Rome as Rome does, as yefil soon find ’’ 
— and disregarding Arthur ^s exclamation — “and the bit 
bairn, I thocht ye said he was no Scot, when I was daunder- 
ing awa^ at the French yestreen. 

“No, he is half Irish, half French, eldest son of Count 
Burke, a good Jacobite, who got into trouble with the 
Prince of Orange, and is high in the French service. 

“ And what gars your father ^s son to be secretaire, as ye 
caM it, to Frenchman or Irishman either?^ ^ 

“Well, it was my own fault. I was foolish enough to 
run away from school to join the rising for our own 
hinge’s — 

“ Eh, sirs! And has there been a rising on the border 
side against the English pock puddings? Oh, gin I had 
kenned it!^^ 

Yusuf ^s knowledge of English politics had been dim at 
the best, and he had apparently left Scotland before even 
Queen Anne was on the throne. When he understood 
Arthur^s story, he communicated his own. He had been 
engaged in a serious brawl with some English fishers, and 
in fear of the consequences had fied from Eyemouth, and 
after casting about as a common sailor in various merchant 
ships, had been captured by a Moorish vessel, and had 
found it expedient to purchase his freedom by conversion 
to Islam, after which his Scottish shrewdness and thrift 
had resulted in his becoming a prosperous itinerant mer- 
chant, with his head-quarters at Bona. He expressed him- 
self willing and anxious to do all he could for his young 
countryman; but it would be almost impossible to do so 
unless Arthur would accept the religion of his captors; and 
he explained that the two boys were the absolute property 
of the tribe, who had discovered and rescued them when 


8G A MODEKN TELEMACHUS. 

going to the seashore to gather kelp for the glass work 
practiced by the Moors in their little furnaces. 

‘‘ Forsake my religion? Never cried Arthur indig- 
nantly. 

“ Saftly, saftly/^ said Yusuf: ‘‘ nae doot ye trow as I did 
that they are a’ "mere pagans and savage heathens, worship- 
ing Baal and Ashtaroth, but I fand myself quite mistaken. 
They hae no idols, and girn at the blinded Papists as- 
muckle as auld Deacon Shortcoats himself. 

“ I know that,^^ threw in Arthur. 

* “ Ay, and they are a hantle mair pious and’ devout than 

ever a body I hae seen in Eyemouth, or a^ the country-side 
to boot; forbye, my minnie^s auld auntie, that sat graning 
by the ingle, and ay banned us when we came ben. The 
meneester himseP dinna gae about blessing and praying 
over ilka sma'’ matter like the meenest of us here, and for 
a’ the din they make at hame about the honorable Sabbath, 
wha thinks of prapng five times the day? While as for 
being the waur for liquor, these folks kenna the very taste 
of it. Put yon sheik down on the wharf at Eyemouth, and 
what wad he say to the Christian folk there ?^^ 

A shock of conviction passed over Arthur, though he 
tried to lose it in indignant defense; but Yusuf did not 
venture to stay any longer with him, and bidding him 
think over what had been said, since slavery or Islam were 
the only alternatives, returned to the tents of merchandise. 

First thoughts with the youth had of course been of 
horror at the bare idea of apostasy, and yet as he watched 
his Moorish hosts, he could not but own to himself that he 
never had dreamed that to be among them would be so like 
dwelling under the oak of Mamre, in the tents of Abraham. 
From what he remembered of Partan Jeannie’s reputation 
as a being only tolerated and assisted by his mother on 
account of her extreme misery and destitution, he could be- 
heve that the ne^er-do-weel son, who must have forsaken 
her before he himself was born, might have really been 
raised in morality by association with the grave, faithful, 
and temperate followers of Mohammed, rather than the 
scum of the port of Eyemouth. 

For himself and the boy, what did slavery mean? He 
hoped to understand better from Yusuf, and at any rate to 
persuade the man to become the medium of communication 
with the outside world, beyond that dissociable ocean/ ^ 


A MODERN^ TELEMACHUS. 


87 


over which his wistful gaze wandered. Then the ransom 
of the little Chevalier de Bourke would be certain, and, if 
there were any gratitude in the world, his own. But how 
long would this take, and what might befall them in the 
meantime? 

Ulysse all this time seemed perfectly happy with the 
small Moors, who all romped together without distinction 
of rank, of master, slave or color, for Yusuf ^s little negro 
was freely received among them. At night, however, 
Ulysse’s old home self seemed to revive; he crept back to 
Arthur, tired and weary, fretting for mother, sister, and 
home; and even after he had fallen asleep, waking again to 
cry for Julienne. Poor Arthur, he was a rough nurse, but 
pity kept him patient, and he was even glad to see that the 
child had not forgotten his home. 

Meantime, ever since thfe sunset prayer, there had been 
smoking of pipes and drinking of cofee, and earnest dis- 
cussion between the sheik and the merchant, and by and 
by Yusuf came and sat himself down by Arthur, smiling a 
little at the young man^s difficulty in disposing of those 
long legs upon the ground. 

“ YeTl have to learn this and other things, sir,^^ said he, 
as he crossed his own under him. Eastern fashion; but his 
demeanor was on the whole that of the fisher to the laird^s 
son, and he evidently thought that he had a grand pro- 
posal to make, for which Master Arthur ought to be in- 
finitely obliged. 

He explained to Arthur that Sheik Abou Ben Zegri had 
never had more than two sons, and that both had been 
killed the year before in trying to recover their cattle from 
the Cabeleyzes, a sort of Hieland caterans/^ 

The girl whom Arthur had noticed was the widow of the 
elder of the two, and the child was only a daughter. The 
sheik had been much impressed by Arthur^s exploits in 
swimming or floating round the headland and saving the 
child, and regarded his height as something gigantic. 
Moreover, Yusuf had asserted that he w as son to a great 
Bey in his own country, and in consequence Abou Ben Zegri 
was willing to adopt him as his son, provided he would 
embrace the true faith, and marry Ayesha, the widow. 

‘‘ And, said Yusuf, “ tliese women are no that ill for 
wives, as I ken owre weeH’ — and he sighed. “ I had as 
glide and douce a wee wife at Bona as heart culd wish, and 


88 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


twa bonny bairnies; bnt when I cam^ back frae my rounds,, 
the plague had been there before me. They were a’ gone, 
even Ali, that had just began to ca^ me Ab, Ab, and I hae 
never had heart to gang back to the town house. She was 
a gude wife — nae flying, nae rampauging. She wad hae 
died wi^ shame to be likened to thae randy wives at hame. 
Ye might do waur than tak^ such a fair offer, Maister 
Arthur. 

“ A'ou mean it all kindly/^ said Arthur, touched; “ but 
for nothing — no, for nothing, can a Christian deny his 
Lord, or yield up his hopes for hereafter. 

‘‘As for that,^^ returned Yusuf, “the meneester and 
Deacon Shortcoats, and my auld auntie, and the lave of 
them, aye ca’ed me a vessel of destruction. That was the 
best name they had for puir Tam. So what odds culd it 
mak, if I took up with the prophet, and I was ower lang 
leggit to row in a galley? Forbye, here they say that a man 
who prays and gies awmous, and keeps frae wine, is sicker 
to win to Paradise and a’ the houris. I had rather it war 
my puir Zorah than any strange houri of them a’; but any 
way, I hae been a better man sin-’ I took up wi^ them than 
ever I was as a cursing, swearing, drunken, fechting sailor 
lad wha feared neither God nor devil. 

“ That was scarce the fault of the Christian faith, said. 
Arthur. 

“ Aweel, the first answer in the Shorter Carritch was a’ 
they ever garred me learn, and that is what we here say of 
Allah. I see no muckle to choose, and I ken ane thing — it 
is a hell on earth at ance gin ye gang not alang wi^ them. 
And that’s sicker, as yeTl find to your cost, sir, gin ye be 
na the better guided. •” 

“ With hope, infinite hope beyond,” said Arthur, trying 
to fortify himself. “No, I can not, can not deny my 
Lord — my Lord that bought me!” 

“ We own Issa Ben Mariam for a prophet,” said Yusuf. 

“But He is my only Master, my Redeemer, and God. 
No, come what may, I can never renounce Him,” said 
Arthur with vehemence. 

“ Weel, aweel,” said Yusuf, “may be ye’ll see in time 
what’s for your gude. I’ll tell the sheik it would misbe- 
come. your father’s son to do sic a deed owre lichtly, and 
strive to gar him wait while I am in these parts to get your 
word, and nae doot it will be wiselike at the last.” 


A MOBERlSr TELEMACHUS. 


89 


CHAPTER VIL 

MASTER AND SLAVE. 

1 only heard the reckless waters roar, 

Those waves that would not bear me from the shore; 

I only marked the glorious sun and sky 
Too bright, too blue for my captivity, 

And felt that all which Freedom’s bosom cheers, 

Must break my chain before it dried my tears. 

Byron {T'he Corsair.) 

At the rate at which the traffic in Yusuf tent pro- 
ceeded, Arthur Hope was likely to have some little time for 
deliberation on the question presented to him whether to be 
a free Moslem sheik or a Christian slave. 

Not only had almost every household in El Arnieh to 
chaffer with the merchant for his wares and to dispose of 
home-made commodities, but from other adowaras and 
from hill-farms Moors and Cabyles came in with their prod- 
uce of wax, wool or, silk, to barter — if not with Yusuf, 
with the inhabitants of El Arnieh, who could weave and 
embroider, forge cutlery, and make glass from the raw 
material these supplied. Other Cabyles, divers from the 
coast, came up, with coral and sponges, the latter of which 
was the article in which Yusuf preferred to deal, though 
Dothing came amiss to him that he could carry, or that 
could carry itself — such as a young foal; even the little 
black- boy had been taken on speculation — and so indeed 
had the big Abyssinian, who, though dumb, was the most 
useful, ready, and alert of his five slaves. Every bargain 
seemed to occupy at least an hour, and perhaps Yusuf 
lingered the longer in order to give Arthur more time for 
consideration; or it might be that his native tongue, once 
heard, exercised an irresistible fascination over him. He 
never failed to have what he called a “ crack with his 
young countryman at the hour of the siesta, or at night, 
perhaps persuading the sheik that it was controversial, 
though it was more apt to be on circumstances of the day's 
trade or the news of the border-side. Controversy indeed 
there could be little with one so ignorant as kirk treatment 
in that century was apt to leave the outcasts of society, nor 
liad conversion to Islam given him much instruction in its 


90 


A MODEKK TELEMACHUS. 


tenets; so that the conversation generally was on earthly 
topics, though it always ended in assurances that Master 
Arthur would suffer for it if he did not perceive what was 
for his good. To which Arthur replied to the effect that he 
must suffer rather than deny his faith; and Yusuf, declar- 
ing that a willful man maun have his way, and that he 
would rue it too late, went off affronted, but always re- 
turned to the charge at the next opportunity. 

Meantime Arthur was free to wander about unmolested 
and pick up the language, in which, however, Ulysse made 
far more rapid progress, and could be heard chattering- 
away as fast, if not as correctly, us if it were French or 
English. The delicious climate and the open-air life were 
filling the little fellow with a strength and vigor unknown 
to him in a Parisian salon, and he was in the highest spirits 
among his brown playfellows, ceasing to pine for his moth- 
er and sister; and though he still came to Arthur for the 
night, or in any trouble, it was more and more difficult to 
get him to submit to be washed and dressed in liis tight 
European clothes, or to say his prayers. He was always 
sleepy at night and volatile in the morning, and could not 
be got to listen to the little instructions with which Arthur 
tried to arm him against Mohammedanism into which the 
poor little fellow was likely to drift as ignorantly and un- 
consciously as Yusuf himself. 

And what was the alternative? Arthur himself never 
wavered, nor indeed actually felt that he had a choice; but 
the prospect before him was gloomy, and Yusuf did not 
soften it. The sheik would sell him, and he would either 
be made to work in some mountain-farm, or put on board 
a galley; and Yusuf had sufficient experience of the horrors 
of the latter to assure him emphatically that the gude ieddy 
of Burnside would break her heart to think of her bonny 
laddie there. 

“ Ic would more surely break her heart to think of her 
son giving up his faith, returned Arthur. 

As to the child, the opinion of the tribe seemed to be that 
he w^as just fit to be sent to the Sultan to be bred as a 
Janissary. He will come 'that gate to be as great a man 
as in his ain countree, said Yusuf; “ wi^ horse to ride, 
&nd sword to bear, and braws to wear, like King Solomon 
in all his glory. 

“ While his father and mother would far rather he were 


A MODERJf TELEMACHUS. 


91 


lying dead with her under the waves in that cruel bay/^ 
returned Arthur. 

“ Hout, moil, ye dinna ken what’s for his gude, nor for 
your aiii neither/’ retorted Yusuf. 

Good here is not good hereafter.” 

“ The life of a dog and waur here,” muttered Yusuf; 
‘‘ ye’ll mind me when it is too late.” 

‘‘ ISTay, Yusuf, if you will only take word of our con- 
dition to Algiers, we"^ shall — at least tlie boy — be assuredly 
redeemed, and 5’ou would win a high reward.” 

‘‘I am no free to gang to Algiers,” said Yusuf. I 
fell out with a loon there, one of those Janissaries, that 
gang hectoring aboot as though the world were not gude 
enough for them, and if I hadna made the best of my way 
out of the toon, my pow wad be a worricow on the wa’s of 
the tower. ’ ’ 

‘‘There are French at Bona, you say. 'Remember, I 
ask you to put yourself in no danger, only to bear the tid- 
ings to any European,” entreated Arthur. 

“ And how are they to find ye?” demanded Yusuf. 

Abou Ben Zegri will never keep you here after having 
evened his gude daughter to ye. He’ll sell you to some 
corsair captain, and then the best that could betide ye wad 
be that a shot frae the Knights of Malta should make 
<3uick work wi’ ye. Or look at the dumbie there, Fareek. 
A Christian, he ca’s himsel’, too, though ’tis of a by ord- 
inar’ fashion, such as Deacon Shortcoats would scarce own. 
I coft him dog cheap at Tunis, when his master, the vizier, 
had had his tongue cut out — for but knowing 0’ some deed 
that suld ne’er have been done — and his puir feet bas- 
tinadoed to a jelly. Gin ’a the siller in the Dey’s treasury 
ransomed ye, what gude would it do ye after that?” 

“ I can not help that — I can not forsake my God. I 
must trust Him not to forsake me.” 

And, as usual, Yusuf went olf angrily muttering, “ He 
that will to Cupar maun to Cupar.” 

Perhaps Arthur’s resistance had begun more for the sake 
of honor, and instinctive clinging to hereditary faith, with- 
out the sense of heroism or enthusiasm for martyrdom which 
sustained Estelle, and rather with the feeling that incon- 
stancy to his faith and his Lord would be base and disloyal. 
But, as the long days rolled on, if the future of toil and 
dreary misery developed itself before him, the sense of per- 


92 


A MODERIS' TELEMACHUS. 


sonal love and aid toward the Lord and Master whom he 
served grew upon him. Neither the gazelle-eyed Ayesha 
nor the prosperous village life presented any great tempta- 
tion. He would have given them all for one bleak day of 
mist on a Border moss; it was the appalling contrast with 
the hold of a Moorish galley that at times startled him^ to- 
gether with the only too great probability that he should 
be utterly incapable of saving poor little Ulysse from un- 
conscious apostasy. 

Once Yusuf observed, that, if he would only make out- 
ward submission to Moslem law, he might retain his own 
belief and trust in the Lord he seemed so much to love, 
and of whom he said more good than any Moslem did of 
the prophet. 

‘‘ If I deny Him, He will deny me,^^ said Arthur. 

‘‘ And will na He forgive ane as is hard pressed?” asked 
Yusuf. 

It is a very different thing to go against the light, as I 
should be doing,^^ said Arthur, “ and what it might be for 
that poor bairn, whom God preserve. 

“ And wow! sir. "Tis far different wi' you that had the 
best of glide learning frae the gude leddy,” muttered Yusuf. 
‘‘ My minnie aye needit me to sort the fish and gang her 
errands, and wad scarce hae sent me to scule, gin I wad 
hae gane where they girned at me for Partan Jeannie's 
wean, and gied me mair o" the tawse than of the horn-book. 
Gin the Lord, as ye ca^ Him, had ever seemed to me what 
ye say He is to you, Maister Arthur, I micht hae thocht 
twice o^er the matter. But there^s nae ganging back the 
noo. A Christiaips life they harm na, though they mak" it 
a mere weariness to him; but for him that quits the 
prophet, tearing the fiesh wi' iron decks is the best they 
hae for him. ” 

This time Yusuf retreated, not as usual in anger, but as 
if the bare idea he had broached was too terrible to be dwelt 
upon. He had by the end of a fortnight completed all his 
business at El Arnieh, and Arthur, having by this time 
picked up enough of the language to make himself compre- 
hensible, and to know fully what was set before him, was 
called upon to make his decision, so that either he might be 
admitted by regular ritual into the Moslem faith, and 
adopted by the sheik, or else be advertised by Yusuf at the 
next town as a strong young slave. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


93 


Sitting in the gate among the village magnates, like an 
elder of old. Sheik Abou Ben Zegri, with considerable grace 
and dignity, set the choice before the Son of the Sea in 
most affectionate terms, asking of him to become the child 
of his old age, and to heal the breach left by the swords of 
the robbers of the mountains. 

The old man^s fine dark eyes filled with tears, and there 
was a pathos in his noble manner that made Arthur greatly 
grieved to disappoint him, and sorry not to have sufficient 
knowledge of the language to qualify more graciously the 
resolute reply he had so often rehearsed to himself, express- 
ing his hearty thanks, but declaring that nothing could in- 
duce him to forsake the religion of his fathers. 

“ Wilt thou remain a dog of an unbeliever, and receive 
the ti’eatment of dogs?’’ 

I must,” said Arthur. 

“The youth is a goodly 3^outh,” said the sheik; “it is 
ill that his heart is blind. Once again, young man, Issa 
Ben Mariam and slavery, or Mohammed and freedom?” 

“ I can not deny my Lord Christ.” 

There was a pause. Arthur stood upright, with lips 
compressed, hands clasped together, while the sheik and 
his companions seemed struck by his courage and high 
spirit. Then one of them — a small, ugly fellow, who had 
some pretensions to be considered the sheik’s next heir — 
cried, “ Out on the infidel dog!” and set the example of 
throwing a handful of dust at him. The crowd who 
watched around were not slow to follow the example, and 
Arthur thought he was actually being stoned; but the 
missiles were for the most part not harmful, only disgust- 
ing, blinding, and confusing. There was a tremendous 
hubbub of vituperation, and he was at last actually stunned 
by a blow, waking to find himself alone, and with hands 
and feet bound, in a dirty little shed appropriated to 
camels. Should he ever be allowed to see poor little Ulysse 
again, or to speak to Yusuf, in whom lay their only faint 
hope of redemption? He was helpless, and the boy was at 
the mercy of the Moors. Was he utterly forsaken? 

It was growing late in the day, and he had had no food 
for many hours. Was he to be neglected and starved: At 
last he heard steps approaching, and the door was opened 
by the man who had led the assault on him, who addressed 
him as “ Son of an old ass — dog of a slave,” bade him 


94 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


stand up and show his height, at the same time cutting the 
cords that bound him. It was an additional pang that it 
was to Yusuf that he was thus to exhibit himself, no doubt 
in order that the merchant should carry a description of 
him to some likely purchaser. He could not comprehend 
the words that passed, but it was very bitter to be handled 
like a horse at a fair — doubly so that he, a Hope of Burn- 
side, should thus be treated by Partan Jeannie^s son. 

There ensued outside the shrieking and roaring which al- 
ways accompanied a bargain, and which lasted two full 
hours. Finally Yusuf looked into the hut, and roughly 
said in Arabic, “ Come over to me, dog; thou art mine. 
Kiss the shoe of thy master — adding in his native tongue. 

For ance, sir. It maun be done before these loons. 

Certainly the ceremon}^ would have been felt as less hu- 
miliating toward almost anybody else, but Arthur endured 
it; and then was led away to the tents beyond the gate. 

There, sir,^^ said Yusuf, “ it ill sorts your father’s son 
to be in sic a case, but it canna be helpit. I culd na leave 
behind the bonny Scots tongue, let alane the gude Leddy 
Hope’s son.” 

“You have been very good to me, Yusuf,” said Arthur, 
his pride much softened by the merchant’s evident sense of 
the situation. “ I know you meanmie well, but the boy — ” 

“ Hoots! the bairn is happy eno’. He will come to higher 
preferment than even you or I. Why, mon, an Aga of the 
Janissaries is as good as the deuk himsel’.” 

“Yusuf, I am very grateful — I believe you must have 
paid heavily to spare me from ill-usage.” 

“Ye may say that, sir. Forty piasters of Tunis, and 
eight mules, and twa pair of silver-mounted pistols. The 
extortionate rogue wad hae had the little dagger, but I 
stood out against that. ” 

“I see, I am deeply beholden,” said Arthur; “ but it 
vvould be tenfold better if you would take him instead of 
me!” 

“ What for suld I do that? He is nae countryman of 
mine —one side French and the other Irish. He is naught 
to m3.” 

“ He is heir to a noble house,” urged Arthur. “ They 
will reward you amply for saving him. ” 

“ Mair like to girn at me for a Moor. Na, na! Hae na 
I dune enough for ye, Maister Arthur — giving half my 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


95 


beasties, and more than half my silver? Canna ye be con- 
tent without that whining bairn 

“I should be a forsworn man to be content to leave the 
child, whose dead mother prayed me to protect him, amid 
those who will turn him from her faith. See, now, I am a 
man, and can guard myself, by the grace of God; but to 
leave the poor child here would be letting these men work 
Iheir will on him ere any ransom could come. His mother 
would deem it giving him up to perdition. Let me remain 
here, and take the helpless child. Y'ou know how to bar- 
gain. His price might be my ransom. ^ 

‘‘ Ay, when the jackals and hyenas have picked your 
banes, or you have died under the lash, chained to the oar, 
as I hae seen, Maister Arthur. 

‘‘ Better so than betray the dead woman's trust. How 
now — ' ' 

For there was a pattering of feet, a cry of Arthur, 
Arthur!" and sobbing, screaming, and crying, IJlysse threw 
himself on his friend's breast. He was pursued by one or 
two of the hangers-on of the sheik's household, and the 
first-comer seized him by the arm; but he clung to Arthur, 
screamed and kicked, and the old nurse who had come hob- 
bling after coaxed in vain. He cried out in a mixture of 
Arabic and French that he would sleep with Arthur — 
Arthur must put him to bed; no one should take him away. 

‘‘ Let him stay," responded Yusuf; “ his time will come 
soon enough." 

Indulgence to children was the rule, and there was an 
easy good-nature about the race, which made them ready 
to defer the storm, and acquiesce in the poor little fellow 
remaining for another evening with that last remnant of 
his home to whom he always reverted at night-falh 

He held trembling by Arthur till all were gone, then 
looked about in terror, and required to be assured that no 
one was coming to take him away. 

They shall not," he cried. ‘‘Arthur, you will not 
leave me alone? They are all gone — mamma and Estelle, 
and la lonne, and Laurent, and my uncle, and all, and 
you will not go. " 

“Not now, not to-night, my dear little mannie, " said 
Arthur, tears in his eyes for the first time throughout these 
misfortunes. 

“ Not now! No, never!" said the boy hugging him al- 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


n6 

most to choking. ‘‘ That naughty Ben Kader said they 
had sold you for a slave, and you were going away; but I 
knew I should find you — you are not a slave! — you are not 
black— 

‘‘ Ah! Ulysse, it is too true; I am — 

“No! no! no!^^ the child stamped, and hung on him in 
a passion of tears. “ You shall not be a slave. My papa 
shall come with his soldiers and set you free."’"’ 

Altogether the boy’s vehemence, agitation, and terror 
were such that Arthur found it impossible to do anything 
but soothe and hush him, as best might be, till his sobs 
subsided gradually, still heaving his little chest even after 
he fell asleep in the arms of his unaccustomed nurse, who 
found himself thus baffled in using this last and only op- 
portunity of trying to strengthen the child’s faith, and was 
also hindered from pursuing Yusuf, who had left the tent. 
And if it were separation that caused all this distress, what 
likelihood that Yusuf would encumber himself with a child 
who had shown such powers of wailing and screaming? 

He durst not stir nor speak for fear of waking the boy, 
even when Yusuf returned and stretched himself on his 
mat, drawing a thick woolen cloth over him, for the nights 
were chill. Long did Arthur lie awake under the strange 
sense of slavery and helplessness, and utter uncertainty as 
to his fate, expecting, in fact, that Yusuf mean to keep 
him as a sort of tame animal to talk Scotch; but hoping to 
work on him in time to favor an escape, and at any rate to 
dispatch a letter to Algiers, as a forlorn hope for the ultimate 
redemption of the poor little unconscious child who lay 
warm and heavy across his breast. Certainly, Arthur had 
never so prayed for aid, light, and deliverance as now! 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE SEARCH. 

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks, 

The long day wanes, the slow moon climbs. The deep 
Moans round with many voices. Come, my -friends. 

Tennyson. 

Arthur fell asleep at last, and did not waken till after 
sunrise, nor did Ulysse, who must have been exhausted 
with crying and struggling. When they did awaken, 
Arthur thinking with heavy heart that the moment of part- 


A MODIAIX TELEiiACKUS. 


ing was come, he saw indeed the other three slaves busied 
in making bales of the merchandise; but the master, as well 
as the Abyssinian, Fareek, and the little negro were all 
missing. Bekir, who was a kind of foreman, and looked 
on the new white slave with some jealousy, roughly pointed 
to some coarse food, and in reply to the question whether 
the merchant was taking leave of the sheik, intimated that 
it was no business of theirs, and assumed authority to make 
his new fellow-slave assist in the hardest of the packing. 
Arthur had no heart to resist, much as it galled him to be 
ordered about by this rude fellow. It was only a taste, as 
he, well knew, of what he had embraced, and he was touched 
by poor little Ulysse^s persistency in keeping as close as 
possible, though his playfellows came down and tried first 
to lure, then to drag him away, and finally remained to 
watch the process of packing up. Though Bekir was too 
disdainful to reply to his fellow-slave’s questions, Arthur 
picked up from answers to the Moors who came down that 
Yusuf had recollected that he had not finished his transac- 
tions with a little village of Cabyle coral and sponge-fishers 
on the coast, and had gone down thither, taking the little 
negro, to whom the headman seemed to have taken a 
fancy, so as to become a possible purchaser, and with the 
Abyssinian to attend to the mules. 

A little before sundown Yusuf returned. Fareek lifted 
down a pannier covered by a crimson and yellow kerchief, 
and Yusuf declared, with much apparent annoyance, that 
the child was sick, and that this had frustrated the sale. 
He was asleep, must be carried into the tent, and not dis- 
turbed; for though the Cabyles had not purchased him, 
there was no affording to lose anything of so much value. 
Moreover, observing Ulysse still hovering round the Scot, 
lie said, ‘‘You may bide here the night, laddie, I ha telFt 
the sheik;” and he repeated the same to the slaves in 
Arabic, dismissing them to hold a parting feast on a lamb 
stuffed with pistachio nuts, together with their village 
friends. 

Then drawing near to Arthur, he said, “ Can ye gar yon 
wean keep a quiet sough, if we make him pass for the little 
black?” 

Arthur started with joy, and stammered some words of 
intense relief and gratitude. 

“ The deed’s no dune yet,” said Yusuf, “ and it is ower 

4 


98 


A MODERi^' TELEMACHUS. 


like to end in our leaving a,’ our banes on the sands! But 
a wilfu’ man maun have his way/' he repeated; so, sir, 
if it be your wull, ye'd better speak to the bairn, for we 
must make a blackamoor of him while there is licht to do 
it, or Bekir, whom I dinna lippen to, comes back frae the 
feast. " 

Ulysse, being used to Irish-English, had little under- 
standing of Yusuf's broad Scotch; but he was looking anx- 
iously from one to the other of the speakers, and when 
Arthur explained to him that the disguise, together with 
perfect silence, was the only hope of not being left behind 
among the Moors, and the best chance of getting back to 
his home and dear ones again, he perfectly understood. As 
to the blackening, for which Y usuf had prepared a mixture 
to be laid on with a feather, it was perfectly enchanting to 
fail's la comedie. He laughed so much that he had to be 
peremptorily hushed, and they were sensible of the danger 
that in case of a search he might betray himself to his 
Moorish friends; and Arthur tried to make him comprehend 
the extreme danger, making him cry so that his cheeks had 
to be touched up. His eyes and hair were dark, and the 
latter was cut to its shortest by Yusuf, who further man- 
aged to fasten some tufts of wool dipped in the black un- 
guent to the kerchief that bound his head. The childish 
features had something of the Irish cast, which lent itself 
to the transformation, and in the scanty garments* of the 
little negro Arthur owned that he should never have known 
the small French gentleman. Arthur was full of joy — 
Yousuf gruff, brief, anxious, like one acting under some 
compulsion most unwillingly, and even despondently, but 
apparently constrained by a certain instinctive feudal feel- 
ing, which made him follow the desires of the young Border 
laird's son. 

All had been packed beforehand, and there was nothing 
to be done 'but to strike the tents, saddle the mules, and 
start. Ulysse, still very sleepy, was lifted into the pannier, 
almost at the first streak of dawn, while the slaves were 
grumbling at being so early called up; and to a Moor who 
wakened up and offered to take charge of the little Bey, Yu- 
suf replied that the child had been left in the sheik’s house. 

So they were safely out at the outer gate, and proceed- 
ing along a beautiful path leading above the cliffs. The 
mules kept in one long string, Bekir with the foremost. 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


99 


which was thus at some distance from the hindmost, which 
carried Ulysse and was attended by Arthur, while the mas- 
ter rode his own animals and gave directions. The fiction 
of illness was kept up, and when the bright eyes looked up 
in too lively a manner, Yusuf produced some of the sweets, 
which were always part of his stock in trade, as a bribe to 
quietness. 

At sunrise, the halt for prayer was a trial to Arthur^s 
intense anxiety, and far more so was the noontide one for 
sleep. He even ventured a remonstrance, but was answered, 

Mair haste, worse speed. Our lives are no worth a boddle 
till the search is over. ” 

They were on the shady side of a great rock overhung by 
a beautiful creeping -plant, and with a spring near at hand, 
and Yusuf, in leisurely fashion, squatted down, caused 
Arthur to lift out the child, who was fast asleep again, and 
the mules to be allowed to feed, and distributed some dried 
goat^s flesh and dates; but Ulysse, somewhat to Arthur’s 
alarm, did not wake sufficiently to partake. 

Looking up in alarm, he met a sign from Yusuf, and 
presently a whisper, “ No hurt done — ’tis safer thus — ” 

And by this time there were alarming sounds on the air. 
The sheik and two of the chief men of El Arnieh were on 
horseback and armed with matchlocks; and the whole 
of the village were following on foot, with yells and vitu- 
perations of the entire ancestry of the merchant, and far 
more complicated and furious threats than Arhur could 
follow; but he saw Yusuf go forward to meet them with 
the utmost cool courtesy. 

They seemed somewhat discomposed: Yusuf appeared to 
condole with them on the loss, and waving his hands, put 
all his baggage at their service for a search, letting them 
run spears through the bales, and overturn the baskets of 
sponges, and search behind every rock. When they ap- 
proached the sleeping boy, Arthur, with throbbing heart, 
dimly comprehended that Yusuf was repeating the story of 
the disappointment of a purchase caused by his illness, and 
lifting for a moment the covering laid over him to show 
the bare black legs and arms. There might also have been 
some hint of infection which, in spite of all Moslem belief 
in fate, deterred Abou Ben Zegri from an overdose in- 
spection. Yusuf further invented a story of having put 
the little Frank in charge of a Moorish woman in the 


100 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


adowara; but added he was so much attached to the Son of 
the Sea, that most likely he had wandered out in search of 
him, and the only wise course would be to seek him before 
he was devoured by any of the wild beasts near home. 

Nevertheless, there was a courteous and leisurely smok-^ 
ing of pipes and drinking of coffee before the sheik and his 
followers turned homeward. To Arthur^s alarm and sur- 
prise, however, Yusuf did not resume the journey, but told 
Bekir that there would hardly be a better halting-place 
within their powers, as the sun was already some way on 
his downward course; and besides, it would take some 
time to repack the goods which had been cast about in 
every direction during the search. The days were at their 
shortest, though that was not very short, closing in at about 
five o^clock, so that there was not much time to spai-e^ 
Arthur began to feel some alarm at the continued drowsi- 
ness of the little boy, who only once muttered something,, 
turned round, and slept again. 

“ What have you done to him?^^ asked Arthur, anxiously. 

“ The poppy, responded Yusuf. ‘‘ Never fashyourseF. 
The bairn willna be a hair the waur, and Tis better so thart 
that he suld rax a’ our craigs. 

Yusuf’s peril was so much the greater, that it was im- 
possible to object to any of his precautions, especially as he 
might take offense and throw the whole matter over; but 
it was impossible not to chafe secretly at the delay, which 
seemed incomprehensible. Indeed, the merchant was 
avoiding private communication with Arthur, only assum- 
ing the master, and ordering about in a peremptory fashion 
which it was very hard to digest. 

After the sunset orisons had been performed, Yusuf re- 
galed his slaves with a donation of coffee and tobacco, but 
with a warning to Arthur not to partake, and to keep to 
windward of them. So too did the Abyssinian, and the 
cause of the warning was soon evident, as Bekir and his 
companion nodded, and then sunk into a slumber as sound 
as that of the little. Frenchman. Indeed, Arthur himself 
was weary enough to fall asleep soon after sundown, in 
spite of his anxiety, and the stars were shining like great 
lamps when Yusuf awoke him. One mule stood equipped 
beside him, and held by the Abyssinian. Yusuf pointed 
to the child, and said, ‘‘ Lift him upon it. ” 

Arthur obeyed, finding a pannier empty on one side to 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


101 


receive the child, who only muttered and writhed instead 
of awaking. The other side seemed laden. Yusuf led the 
animal, retracing their way, while fire-flies flitted around 
with their green lights, and the distant laughter of hyenas 
gave Arthur a thrill of loathing horror. Huge bats flut- 
tered round, and once or twice grim shapes crossed their 
path. “ Uncanny beasties,^^ quoth Yusuf; but they will 
soon be behind us. 

He turned into a rapidly sloping path. Arthur felt a 
fresh salt breeze in his face, and his heart leaped up with 
hope. 

In about an hour and a half they had reached a cove, 
shut in by dark rocks which in the night looked immeasur- 
able, but on the white beach a few little huts were dimly 
discernible, one with a light in it. The sluggish dash of 
waves could be heard on the shore; there was a sense of in- 
finite space and breadth before them; and Jupiter sitting 
in the north-west was like an enormous lamp, casting a 
pathway of light shimmering on the waters to lead the 
exiles home. 

Three or four boats were drawn up on the beach; a man 
rose up from within one, and words in a low voice were ex- 
changed between him and Yusuf; while Fareek, grinning 
so that his white teeth could be seen in the starlight, un- 
loaded the mule, placing its packs, a long Turkish blun- 
derbuss, and two skins of water, in the boat, and arranging 
a mat on which Arthur could lay the sleeping child. 

Well might the youth’s heart bound with gratitude, as, 
unmindful of all the further risks and uncertainties to be 
encountered, he almost saw his way back to Burnside. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ESCAPE. 

Beside the lielm he sat, steering expert, 

Nor sleep fell ever on his eyes that watch’d 
Intent the Pleiads, tardy in decline, 

Bootes and the Bear, call’d else the Wain, 

Which in his polar prison circling, looks 
Direct toward Orion, and alone 
Of these sinks never to the briny deep. 

Odyssey (Cowper.) 

The boat was pushed off, the Abyssinian leaped into it; 
Arthur paused to pour out his thankfulness to Yusuf, but 


102 


A MODERN' TELEMACHUS. 


was met with the reply, Hout awa! Time eneugh for 
that — in wi' ye/^ And fancying there was some alarm, he 
sprung in, and to his amazement found Yusuf instantly at 
his side, taking the rudder, and giving some order to 
Fareek, who had taken possession of a pair of oars; while 
the waters seemed to flash and glitter a welcome at every 
dip. 

You are coming! you are coming!’’ exclaimed Arthur, 
clasping the merchant’s hand, almost beside himself with 

joy. 

Sma’ hope wad there be of a callant like yersel’ and 
the wean there winning awa’ by yer lane,” growled Yusuf. 

‘‘You have given up all for us.” 

“ There wasna muckle to gie,” returned the sponge 
merchant. “ Sin’ the gude wife and her bit bairnies at 
Bona were gane, I hadna the heart to gang thereawa’, nor 
quit the sound o’ the bonny Scots tongue. I wad as soon 
gang to the bottom as to the toom house. For dinna ye 
trow yersells ower sicker e’en the noo.” 

“ Is there fear of pursuit?” 

“ No mickle o’ that. The folk here are what they ca’ 
Cabyles, a douce set, not forgathering with Arabs nor wi’ 
Moors.' I wad na gang among them till the search was 
over to-day; but yesterday I saw yon carle, and coft the 
boatie frae him for the wee blackamoor and the mule. 
The Moors at El Aziz are not seafaring; and gin the morn 
they jalouse what we have done, we have the start of 
them. Na, I’m not feared for them; but forbye that, this 
is no the season for an open boatie wi’ a crew of three and 
a wean. Gin we met an Algerian or Tunisian cruiser, as 
we are maist like to do, a bullet or drooning wad be ower 
gude in their e’en for us — for me, that is to say. They 
wad spare the bairn, and may think you too likely a lad to 
hang on the walls like a split corbie on the woodsman’s 
lodge. ” 

“Well, Yusuf, my name is Hope, you know,” said 
Arthur. “ God has brought us so far, and will scarce 
leave us now. I feel three times the man that I was when 
I lay down this evening. Do we keep to the north, where 
we are sure to come to a Christian land in time?” 

“ Easier said than done. Ye little ken what the cur- 
rents are in this same sea, or deed ye’ll soon ken when we 
get into them. ” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 103 

Arthur satisfied himself that they were making for the 
north by looking at the Pole Star, so much lower than he 
was used to see it in Scotland that he hardly recognized his 
old friend; but, as he watched the studded belt of the 
Hunter and glittering Pleiades, the Horatian dread of 
Nimbosus Orion occurred to him as a thought to be put 
away. 

' Meantime there was a breeze from the land, and the sail 
was hoisted. Yusuf bade both Arthur and Fareek lie down 
to sleep, for their exertions would be wanted by and by, 
since it would not be safe to use the sail by daylight. It 
was very cold — wild blasts coming down from the mount- 
ains; but Arthur crept under the woolen mantle that had 
been laid over TJlysse, and was weary enough to sleep 
soundly. Both were awakened by the hauling down of the 
mast; and the little boy, who had quite slept off the drug, 
scrambling out from under the covering, was astonished 
beyond measure at finding himself between the glittering, 
sparkling expanse of sea and the sky, where the sun h^ 
just leaped up in a blaze of gold. 

The white summits of Atlas were tipped with rosy light, 
beautiful to behold, though the voyagers had much rather 
have been out of sight of them. 

“ Hofv much have we made, Yusuf. began Arthur. 

“ Tam Armstrong, so please you, sir!. Y'usuf’s dead 
and buried the noo; and if I were further beyant the grip 
of them that kenned him, my thrapple would feel all the 
sounder!'’^ 

This day was, he further explained, the mosfperiious one, 
since they were by no means beyond the track of vessels 
plying on the coast; and as a very jagged and broken cluster 
of rocks lay near, he decided on availing themselves of the 
shelter they afforded. The boat was steered into a narrow 
channel between two which stood up like the fangs of a 
great tooth, and afforded a pleasant shade; but there was 
such a screaming and calling of gulls, terns, cormorants, 
and all 'manner of other birds, as they entered the little 
strait, and such a cloud of them hovered and whirled over- 
head, that Tam uttered imprecations on their skirling, and 
bade his companions lie close and keep quiet till they had 
settled again, lest the commotion should betray that the 
rocks were the lair of fugitives. 

It was not easy to keep Ulysse quiet, for he was in rapt- 


104 


A MODEKIs TELEMACHUS. 


ures at the rush of winged creatures, and no less so at the 
wonderful sea-anemones and starfish in the pools, where 
long streamers of weed of beautiful colors floated on the 
limpid water. 

^Nothing reduced him to stillness but the sight of the 
dried goaty's flesh and dates that Tam Armstrong produced, 
and for which all had appetites, which had to be checked, 
since no one could tell how long it would be before any 
kind of haven could be reached. 

Arthur bathed himself and his charge in a pool, after 
Tam had ascertained that no many-armed squid or cuttle- 
fish lurked within it. And while IJlysse disported himself 
like a little fish, Arthur did his best to restore him to his 
natural complexion, and tried to cleanse the little gar- 
ments, which showed only too plainly the lack of any 
change, and which were the only Frank or Christian clothes 
among them, since young Hope himself had been almost 
stripped when he came ashore, and wore the usual garb of 
A^usuf^s slaves. 

Presently Fareek made an imperative sign to hush the 
child’s merry tongue; and peering forth in intense anxiety, 
the others perceived a lateen sail passing perilously near, 
but happily keeping aloof from the sharp reef of rocks 
around their shelter. Arthur had forgotten the child’s 
prayers and his own, but Ulysse connected them with dress- 
ing, and the alarm of the passing ship had recalled them to 
the young man’s mind, though he felt shy as he found that 
Tam Armstrong was not asleep, but was listening and 
watching with his keen gray eyes under tlieir grizzled brows. 
Presently, when Ulysse was dropping to sleep again, the 
ex-merchant began to ask questions with the intelligence of 
his shrewd Scottish brains. 

The stern Calvinism of the North was wont to consign 
to utter neglect the outcast border of civilization, where 
there were no decent parents to pledge themselves; and 
Partan Jeannie’s son had grown up well-nigh in heathen 
ignorance among fisher lads and merchant sailors, till it 
had been left for him to learn among the Mohammedans 
both temperance and devotional habits. His whole faith 
and understanding would have been satisfied forever; but 
there had been strange yearnings within him ever since he 
had lost his wife and children, and these had not passed 
away when Arthur Hope came in his path. Like many 


A moderns" telemachus. lOo 

another renegade, he could not withstand the attraction of 
his native tongue; and in this case it was doubled by the 
feudal attachment of the district to the family of Burn- 
side, and a grateful remembrance of the lady who had been 
one of the very few persons who had ever done a kindly 
deed by the little outcast. He had broken with all his 
Moslem ties for Arthur Hope^s sake; and these being left 
behind, he began to make some inquiries about thac Chris- 
tian faith to which he must needs return — if return be the 
right word in the case of one who knew it so little when he 
had abjured it. 

And Arthur had not been bred to the grim reading of 
the doctrine of predestination which had condemned poor 
Tam, even before he had embraced the faith of the prophet. 
Boyish, and not over thouglitful, the youth, when brought 
face to face with apostasy, had been ready to give life or 
liberty rather than deny his Lord; and deepened by that 
great decision, he could hold up that Lord and Eedeerner 
in colors that made Tam see that his clinging to his faith 
was not out of mere honor and constancy, but that Mo- 
hammed had been a poor and wretched substitute for Him 
whom the poor fellow had denied, not knowing what he did. 

“ Weel!^^ he said, ‘‘ gin the deacon and the auld aunties 
had tellt me as mickle about Him, thae Moors might ha^ 
preached their thrapples sair for Tam. Mashallah! Mais- 
ter Arthur, do ye think, noo. He can forgie a puir carle for 
turning frae Him an^ disowning Him?’^ 

“ I am sure of it, Tam. He forgives all who come to 
Him —and you — you did it in ignorance. ’ ^ 

‘‘ And you trow na that I am a vessel of wrath, as they 
aye saidi*^^ 

“ No, no, no, Tam. How could that be with one who 
has done what you have for us? There is good in you — 
noble goodness, Tam; and who could have put it there but 
God, the Holy Spirit? I believe myself He was leading 
you all the time, though you did not know it; making you 
a better man first, and now, through this brave kindness to 
us, bringing you back to be a real true Christian and know 
Him.^^ 

Arthur felt as if something put the words into his mouth, 
but he felt them with all his heart, and the tears were in 
his eyes. 

At sundown Tam grew restless. Force of habit impelled 


1,0G 


A MODERlSr TELEMACIIUS. 


him to turn to Mecca and make his devotions as usual, and 
after nearly kneeling down on the flat stone, he turned to 
Arthur and said, “ I canna weel do without the bit prayer, 
sir. 

No, indeed, Tam. Only let it be in the right Name.^' 

And Arthur knelt down beside him and said the Lord’s 
Prayer — then, under a spell of bashfulness, muttered 
special entreaty for protection and safety. 

They were to embark again now that darkness would veil 
their movements, but the wind blew so much from the 
north that they could not raise the sail. The oars were 
taken by Tam and Fareek at first, but when they came into 
difficult currents Arthur changed places with the former. 

And thus the hours passed. The Mediterranean may be 
in our eyes a European lake, but it was quite large enough to 
be a desert of sea and sky to the little crew of an open boat, 
even though they were favored by the weather. Otherwise, 
indeed, they must have perished in the first storm. They 
durst not sail except by night, and then, only with northerly 
winds, nor could there be much rest, since they could not 
lay to, and drift with the currents, lest they should be car- 
ried back to the African coast. Only one of the three men 
could sleep at a time, and that by one of the others taking 
both oars, and in time this could not but become very ex- 
hausting. It was true that all the coasts to the north were 
of Christian lands; but in their Moorish garments and in 
perfect ignorance of Italian, strangers might fare no better 
in Sardinia or Sicily than in Africa, and Spain might be no 
better; but Tam endeavored to keep a north-westerly course, 
thinking from what Arthur had said that in this direction 
there was more chance of being picked up by a French 
vessel. Would their strength and provisions hold out? 
Of this there was serious doubt. Late in the year as it 
was, the heat and glare were as distressing by day as was 
the cold by night, and the continued exertion of rowing 
produced thirst, which made it very difficult to husband 
the water in the skins. Tam and Fareek were both tough, 
and inured to heat and privation; but Arthur, scarce yet 
come to his full height, and far from having attained pro- 
portionate robustness and muscular strength, could not 
help flagging, though, whenever steering was of minor 
importance, Tam gave him the rudder, moved by his wan 
looks, for he never complained, even when fragments of 


A MODERX TELEMACHUS. 


107 

dry goat^s flesh almost choked his parched mouth. The 
boy was never allowed to want for anything save water; 
but it was very hard to hear him fretting for it. Tam took 
the goatskin into his own keeping, and more than once 
uttered a rough reproof, and yet Arthur saw him give the 
child half his own precious ration when it must have in- 
volved grievous suffering. The promise about giving the 
cup of cold water to a little one could not but rise to his 
lips. 

Oauld! and I wish it were cauld!^^ was all the response 
Tam made; but his face showed some gratification. 

This was no season for traffic, and they had barely seen 
a sail or two in the distance, and these only such as the ex- 
perienced eyes of the ex-sponge merchant held to be danger- 
ous. Deadly lassitude began to seize the young Scot; he 
began scarcely to heed what was to become of them, and 
had not energy to try to console Ulysse, who, having in an 
un watched moment managed to swallow some- sea water, 
was crying and wailing under the additional misery he had 
inflicted on himself. The sun beat down with noontide 
force when on that fourth day, turning from its scorching, 
his languid eyes espied a sail on the northern horizon. 

“ See,^^ he cried; ‘‘ that is not the way of the Moors. 

Bismillah! I beg your pardon, sir, cried Tam, but 
said no more, only looked intently. 

Gradually, gradually the spectacle rose on their view 
fuller and fuller, not the ruddy wings of the Algerine or 
Italian, but the square white castle-like tiers of sails rising 
one above another, bearing along in a south-easterly direc- 
tion. 

English or French, said Tam, with a long breath, for 
her colors and build were not yet discernible. “ Mashallah! 
I beg pardon. I mean, God grant she pass us not by!^^ 

The mast was hastily raised, with Tam’s turban unrolled, 
floating at the top of it; and while he and Fareek plied 
their oars with might and main, he bade Arthur fire off at 
intervals the blunderbuss, which had hitherto lain idle at 
the bottom of the boat. 

How long the intense suspense lasted they knew not ere 
Arthur cried, They are slackening sail! Thank God. 
Tam, you have saved us! English!” 

‘‘ Not so fast!” Tam uttered an Arabic and then a 
Scottish interjection. 


10'8 


A 310DEK]S^ TELEMACHUS. 


Their signal had been seen by other eyes. An unmistak- 
able Algerine, with the crescent flag, was bearing down on 
them from the opposite direction. 

Rascals. Do they not dread the British flag?^^ cried 
Arthur. ‘‘ Surely that will protect usr’"’ 

“They are smaller and lighter, and with their galley- 
slaves can defy the wind, and loup off like a flea in a 
blanket,^ ^ returned Tam, grimly. “ Mair by token, they 
guess what we are, and will hold on to hae my lifers bluid 
if naething mair! Here! Gie us a sup of the water, and 
the last bite of flesh. ■’Twill serve us the noo, and we shall 
need it nae mair any way.” 

Arthur fed him, for he durst not slacken rowing for a 
moment. Then seeing Fareek, who had borne the brunt 
of the fatigue, looking spent, the youth, after swallowing 
a few morsels and a little foul-smelling drink, took the 
second oar, while double force seemed given to the long 
arms lately so weary, and both pulled on in silent, grim 
desperation. Ulysse had given one scream at seeing the 
last of the water swallowed, but he, too, understood the 
situation, and obeyed Arthur’s brief words, ‘ ‘ Kneel down 
and pray for us, my boy.” 

The Abyssinian was evidently doing the same, after hav- 
ing loaded the blunderbuss; but it was no longer necessary 
to use this as a signal, since the frigate had lowered her 
boat, which was rapidly coming toward them. 

But, alas! still more swiftly, as it seemed to those terri- 
fied eyes, came the Moorish boat — longer, narrower, more 
favored by currents and winds, flying like a falcon toward 
its prey. It was a fearful race. Arthur’s head began to 
swim, his breath to labor, his arms to move stiffly as a 
thresher’s flail; but, just as power was failing him, an En- 
glish cheer came over the waters, and restored strength for 
a few more resolute strokes. 

Then came some puffs of smoke from the pirate’s boat, 
a rei^ort, a jerk to their own, a fresh dash forward, even 
as Fareek fired, giving a moment’s check to the enemy. 
There was a louder cheer, several shots from the English 
boat, a cloud from the ship’s side. Then Arthur was sensi- 
ble of a relaxation of effort, and that the chase was over, 
then that the British boat was alongside, friendly voices 
ringmg in his ears, “ How now, mates? Runaways, eh? 
Where d’ye hail from?” 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


109 


“ Scottish! British!^^ panted out Arthur^ unable to utter 
more, faint, giddy, and astounded by the cheers around 
liim, and the hands stretched out in welcome. He scarcely 
saw or understood. 

“ Queer customers here! TVhat! a child! Who are you, 
my little man? And what’s this? A Moor! He’s hit — 
pretty hard too.” 

This brought back Arthur’s reeling senses in one flash 
of horror, at the sight of Tam, bleeding fast in the bottom 
of the boat. 

“ Oh, Tam! Tam! He saved me! He is Scottish too,” 
cried Arthur. Sir, is he alive?” 

‘‘ I think so,” said the officer, who had bent over Tam. 

We’ll have him aboard in a minute, and see what the 
doctor can do with him. You seem to have had a narrow 
escape. ” 

Arthur was too busy endeavoring to stanch the blood 
which flowed fast from poor Tam’s side to make much 
reply, but Ulysse, perched on the officer’s knee, was an- 
swering for him in mixed English and French. “ Moi, je 
suis le Chevalier de Bourlce! My papa is Embassador to 
Sweden. This gentleman is his secretary. We were shij)- 
wrecked — and Monsieur Arture and I swam away together. 
The Moors were good to us, and wanted to make us Moors; 
but Monsieur Arture said it would be wicked. And Yusuf 
bought him for a slave; but that was onAy ivom. faire la 
comedie. He is hon Chretien after all, and so is poor 
Fareek, only he is dumb. Yusuf — that is, Tam — made 
me all black, and changed me for his little negro boy; and 
we got into the boat, and it was very hot, and oh! I am so 
thirsty. And now Monsieur Arture will take me to Mon- 
sieur mon Pere, and get me some nice clothes again,” con- 
cluded the young gentleman, who, in this moment of re- 
turn to civilized society, had become perfectly aware of his 
own rank and importance. 

Arthur only looked up to verify the child’s statements, 
which had much struck the lieutenant. Their boat had -by 
this time been towed alongside of the frigate, and poor Tam 
was hoisted on boaid, and the surgeon was instantly at 
hand ; but he said at once that the poor fellow was fast dying, 
and that it would be useless torture to carry him below fox- 
examination. 

A few words passed with the captain, and then the little 


110 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


chevalier was led away to tell his own tale, which he was 
doing with a full sense of his own importance; but present- 
ly the captain returned, and beckoned to Arthur, who had 
been kneeling beside poor Tam, moistening his lips, and 
bathing his face, as he lay gasping and apparently uncon- 
scious, except that he had gripped hold of his broad sash 
or girdle when it was taken olf. 

“ The child tells me he is Comte de Bourke^s son,^^ said 
the captain, in a tentative manner, as if doubtful whether 
he should be understood, and certainly Arthur looked more 
Moorish than European. 

‘‘Yes, sir! He was on his way with his mother to join 
his father when we w^ere taken by a Moorish corsair. ^ ^ 

“ But you are not French said the captain, recogniz- 
ing the tones. 

“No, sir; Scottish — Arthur Maxwell Hope. I was te 
have gone as the count^s secretary. 

“You have escaped from the Moors? I could not under- 
stand what the boy said. Where are the lady and therest?^^ 

Arthur as briefly as he could, for he was very anxious to 
return to poor Tam, exjflained the wreck and the subse- 
quent adventures, saying that he feared the poor countess 
was lost, but that he had seen her daughter and some of 
her suite on a rock. Captain Beresford was horrified at the 
idea of a Christian child among the wild Arabs. His sta- 
tion was Minorca, but he had i ust been at the Bay of Bosas, 
where poor Comte de Bourke^s anxiety and distress about 
his wife and children were known, and he had received a 
request amounting to orders to try to obtain intelligence 
about them, so that he held it to be within his duty to 
make at once for Djigheli Bay. 

For further conversation was cut short by sounds of 
articulate speech from poor Tam. Arthur turned hastily, 
and the captain proceeded to give his orders. 

“ Is Maister Hope herer^^ 

“ Here! Yes. Oh, Tam, dear Tam, if I could do any- 
thing!’^ cried Arthur. 

“ I canna see that well, ’’said Tam, with a sound of anx- 
iety. “ Vv here’s my sash?” 

“ This is it, in your own hand,” said Arthur, thinking he 
was wandering, but the other hand sought one of the ample 
folds, which was sewn over, and weighty. 

“Tak’it; tak’ tent of it; ye’ll need the siller. Four 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. Ill 

hander piasters of Tunis, not countin^ zecchins, and other 
sma^ coin/^ 

“ Shall I send them to any one at Eyemouth 

Tam almost laughed. “ Na, na; keep them and use 
them yersell, sir. There's nane at hame that wad own puir 
Tam. The leddy, your mither, an' you hae been mair to 
me than a' beside that's above ground, and what wad ye do 
wi'out the siller?" 

“ Oh, Tam! I owe all and everything to you. And 
now — " 

Tam looked up, as Arthur's utterance was choked, and a 
great tear fell on his face. ‘‘ Wha wad hae said," mur- 
mured he, ‘‘ that a son of Burnside wad be greetin' for 
Partan Jeannie's son?" 

For my best friend. What have you not saved me 
from! and I can do nothing!" 

“ Nay, sir. Say but thae words again." 

Oh for a clergyman! Or if I had a Bible to read you 
the promises." 

‘‘You shall have one," said the captain, who had re- 
turned to his side. The surgeon muttered that the lad 
seemed as good as a parson; but Arthur heard him not, 
and was saying what prayers came to his mind in this stress, 
when, even as the captain returned, the last struggle came 
on. Once more Tam looked up, saying, Ye'll be good to 
puir Fareek;" and with a word more, ‘‘Oh, Christ: will 
He save such as I?" all was over. 

“ Come away, you can do nothing more," said the doc- 
tor. “ You want looking to yourself." 

For Arthur tottered as he tried to rise, and needed the 
captain's kind hand as he gained his feet. “ Sir," he said, 
as the tears gushed to his eyes, “ he does deserve all honor 
— my only friend and deliverer. " 

“ I see," said Captain Beresford, much moved; “ what- 
ever he has been, he died a Christian. He shall have 
Chdstian burial. And this fellow?" pointing to poor 
Fareek, whose grief was taking vent in moans and sobs. 

“ Christian — Abyssinian, but dumb," Arthur explained; 
and having his promise that all respect should be paid to 
poor Tam's corpse, he let the doctor lead him away, for Jie 
had now time to feel how sun-scorched and exhausted he 
was, with giddy, aching head, and legs cramped and stiif, 
arms strained and shoulders painful after his three da3^s 


112 


A MODERN' TELEMACHUS. 


and nights of the boat. His thirst, too, seemed unquench- 
able, in spite of drinks almost unconsciously taken, and 
though hungry he had little will to eat. 

The surgeon made him take a warm bath, and then fed 
him with soup, after which, on a promise of being called 
in due time, he consented to deposit himself in a hammock, 
and presently fell asleep. 

When he awoke he found that clothes had been provided 
for him — naval uniform; but that could not be helped, 
and the comfort was great. • He was refreshed, but still 
very stiff. However, he dressed and was just ready, when 
the surgeon came to see whether he were in condition to be 
summoned, for it was near sundown, and all hands were 
piped up to attend poor Tam^s funeral rites. His generous 
and faithful deed had eclipsed the memory that he was a 
renegade, and, indeed, it had been in such ignorance that 
he had had little to deny. 

All the sailors stood as respectfully as if he had been one 
of themselves while the captain read a portion of the Burial 
Office. Such honors would never have been his in his 
native land, where at ^that time even Episcopalians them- 
selves could not have ventured on any out-door rites; and 
Arthur was thus doubly struck and impressed, when, as the 
corpse, sewn in sail-cloth and heavily weighted, was 
launched into the blue waves, he heard the words commit- 
ting the body to the deep, till the sea should give up her 
dead. He longed to be able to translate them to poor 
Eareek, who was weeping and howling so inconsolably as to 
attest how good a master he had lost. 

Perhaps Taints newly found or recovered Christianity 
might have been put to hard shocks as to the virtues he 
had learned among the Moslems. At any rate Arthur often 
had reason to declare in after life that the poor renegade 
might have put many a better-trained Christian to shame. 

CHAPTER X. 

ON BOARD THE “ CALYPSO.'’^ 

From whence this 5"outh? 

^ His country, name, and birth declare! 

Scott. 

“ You had forgotten this legacy, Mr. Hope,'^ said Cap- 
tain Beresford, taking Arthur into his cabin, and, judg- 


A 310DERX TELE3rACHUS. 


113 


ing by its weight, it is hardly to be neglected. I put it into 
my locker for security. 

‘‘Thank you, sir,^^ said Arthur. ‘.‘The question is 
whether I ought to take it. I wished for your advice. ” 

“ I heard what passed,"*^ said the captain. “I should 
call your right as complete as if you had a will made by 
half a dozen lawyers. When we get into port, a few crowns 
to the ship^s company to drink your health, and all will be 
right. Will you count itr^^ 

The folds were undone, and little piles made of the gold^ 
but neither the captain nor Arthur were much the wiser. 
The purser might have computed it, but Captain Beresford 
did not propose this, thinking perhaps that it was safer 
that no report of a treasure should get abroad in the ship. 

He made a good many inquiries, which he had deferred 
till Arthur should be in a fitter condition for answering, 
first about the capture and wreck, and what the young man 
had been able to gather about the Cabeleyzes. Then, as 
the replies showed that he had a gentleman before him. 
Captain Beresford added that he could not help asking, 
“ Que diaUe allait il fair e dans cette gaUre 

“ iSir,’"' said Arthur, “ I do not know whether you will 
think it your duty to make me a prisoner, but I had better 
tell you the whole truth. 

“ Oho!^^ said the captain; “ but you are too young! 
You could never have been out with — with — weTl call him 
the chevalier. ” 

“I ran away from school, replied Arthur, coloring. 
“ I was a mere boy, and I never was attainted,^ ^ explained 
Arthur, blushing. “ I have been with my Lord Nithsdale, 
and my mother thought I could safely come home, and that 
if I came from Sweden my brother could not think I com- 
promised liirn.^^ 

“ Your brother? . 

“ Lord Burnside. He is at Court, in favor, they say, 
with King George. He is my half-brother; my mother is 
a Maxwell. 

“ There is a Hope in garrison at Port Mahon — a cap- 
tain,^ ^ said the captain. “ Perhaps he will advise you what 
to do if you are sick of Jacobite intrigue and mystery, and 
ready to serve King George. 

Arthur's face lighted up. “Will it be James Hope of 
Byelands, or Dickie Hope of the Lynn, or — ?" 


114 


A MODEKN TELEMACIirS. 


Captain Beresford held up his hands. 

Time must show thafc, my young friend/^ he said, 
smiling. “ And now I think the officers expect you to join 
their mess in the gun-room. ^ 

There Arthur found the little chevalier strutting about 
in an adaptation of the smallest midshipman^s uniform, 
and the center -of an admiring party, wffio were equally 
diverted by his consequential airs and by his accounts of 
his sports among the Moors. Happy fellow, he could adapt 
himself to any society, and was ready to be the pet and 
plaything of the ship^s company, believing himself, when 
he thought of anything beyond the present, to be full on 
the road to his friends again. 

Fareek was a much more difficult charge, for Arthur 
had hardly a word that he could understand. He found 
the poor fellow coiled up in a corner, just where he had 
seen his former master^s remains disappear, still moaning 
and weeping bitterly. As Arthur called to him he looked 
up for a moment, then crawled forward, striking his fore- 
head at intervals against the deck. He was about to kiss 
the feet of his former fellow-slave, the glitteiing gold, blue, 
and white of whose borrowed dress no doubt impressed 
him. Arthur hastily started back, to the amazement of 
the spectators, and called out a negative — one of the words 
sure to be first learned. He tried to take Fareek ^s hand 
and raise him from his abject attitude; but the poor fellow 
continued kneeling, and not only were no words available 
to tell him that he was free, but it was extremely doubtful 
whether freedom was any boon to him. One thing, how- 
ever, he did evidently understand — he pointed to the St. 
George’s pennant with the red cross, made the sign, looked 
an interrogation, and on Arthur’s reply, ‘‘ Christians,’^ 
and reiteration of the word ‘‘ Salem,” peace, he folded his 
arms and, looked reassured. 

“ Ay, ay, my hearty,” said the big boatswain, “ye’ve 
got under the old flag, and we’ll soon make you see the 
difference. Cut out your poor tongue, have they, the ras- 
cals, and made a dummy of you? I wish my cat was about 
their ears! Come along with you, and you shall find what 
British grog is made of.” 

And a remarkable friendship arose between the two, the 
boatsw^ain patronizing Fareek on every occasion, and roar- 
ing at him as if he were deaf as w^ell as dumb, and Fareek 


A MODEKIST TELEMACHUS. 115 

appearing quite confident under his protection, and estab- 
lishing a system of signs, which were fortunately a universal 
language. The Abyssinian evidently viewed himself as 
young Hope’s servant or slave, probably thinking himself 
part of his late master’s bequest, and there was no common 
language between them in which to explain the difference 
or ascertain the poor fellow^’s wishes. He was a slightly 
made, dexterous man, probably about five-and-twenty years 
of age, and he caught up very quickly, by imitation, the 
care he could take of Arthur’s clothes, and the habit of 
waiting on him at meals. 

Meantime the ‘‘ Calypso ” held her course to the south- 
east, till the chart declared the coast to be that of Hjigheli 
Bay, and Arthur recognized the headlands whither the 
unfortunate tartane had drifted to her destruction. An- 
choring outside the bay. Captain Beresford sent the first 
lieutenant, Mr. Bullock, in the long-boat, with Arthur and 
a well-armed force, with instructions to offer no violence, 
but to reconnoiter; and if they found Mile, de, Bourke, or 
any others of the party, to do their best for their release by 
promises of ransom or representations of the consequences 
of detaining them. Arthur Avas prepared to offer his own 
piasters at once in case of need of immediate payment. He 
was by this time tolerably versed in the vernacular of the 
Mediterranean, and a cook’s boy, shipped at Gibraltar, was 
also supposed to be capable of interpreting. 

The beautiful bay, almost realizing the description of 
HCneas’s landing-place, lay before them, the still green 
waters within reflecting the fantastic rocks and the wreaths 
of verdure which crov/ned them, while the white mountain- 
tops rose like clouds in the far distance against the azure 
sky. Arthur could only, however, think of all this fair 
scene as a cruel prison, and those sharp rocks as the jaws 
of a trap, when he saw the ribs of the tartane still jammed 
into the rock where she had struck, and where he had saved 
the two children as they were washed up the hatchway. He 
saw the rock where the other three had clung, and where 
he had left tlie little girl. He remembered the crowd of 
howling, yelling savages, leaping and gesticulating on the 
beach, and his heart trembled as he wondered how it had 
ended. 

Where were the Cabeleyzes who had thus greeted them? 
The bay seemed perfectly lonely. Not a sound was to be 


116 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


heard but the regular dip of the oars, the cry of a startled 
bird, and the splash of a flock of seals, which had been 
sunning themselves on the shore, and which floundered into 
the sea like Proteus’s flock of yore before Ulysses. Would 
that Proteus himself had still been there to be captured and 
-interrogated! For the place was so entirely deserted that, 
saving for the remains of the wreck, he must have believed 
himself mistaken in the locality, and the lieutenant began 
to question him whether it had been daylight when he came 
ashore. 

Could the natives have' hidden themselves at sight of an 
armed vessel? Mr. Bullock resolved on landing, very cau- 
tiously, and with a sufficient guard. On the shore some 
fragments of broken boxes and packing-cases appeared; 
and a sailor pointed out the European lettering painted on 

one sse de B . It plainly was part of the address 

of the Comtesse de Bourke. This encouraged the party in 
their search. They ascended the path which poor Hubert 
and Lanty Callaghan had so often painfully climbed, and 
found themselves before the square of reed hovels, also de- 
serted, but with black marks where fires had been lighted, 
and with traces of recent habitation. 

Arthur picked up a rag of the Bourke livery, and another 
of a brocade which he had seen the poor countess wearing. 
Was this all the relic that he should ever be able to take to 
her husband? 

He peered about anxiously in hopes of discovering fur- 
ther tokens, and Mr. Bullock v^as becoming impatient of 
his lingering, when suddenly his eye was struck by a score 
on the bark of a chestnut-tree like a cross, cut with a fee- 
ble hand. Beneath, close to the trunk, was a stone, beyond 
the corner of which appeared a bit of paper. He pounced 
upon it. It was the title-page of Estelle’s precious “ Tele- 
maque,” and on the back was written in French, 

“ If any good Christian ever finds this, I pray him to 
carry it to Monsieur the French Consul at Algiers. We 
are five poor prisoners, the Abbe de St. Eudoce, Estelle, 
daughter of the Comte de Bourke, and our servants, 
Jacques Hebert, Laurent Callaghan, Victorine Eenouf. 
The Cabeleyzes are taking us away to their mountains. 
We are in slavery, in hunger, filth, and deprivation of all 
things. We pray day and night that the good God will 


A MODERN TELExMACHUS. 


117 


send some one to rescue us, for we are in great misery, and 
they persecute us to make us deny our faith. Oh, whoevei’ 
you may be, come and deliver us while we are yet alive. 

Arthur was almost choked with tears as he translated 
this piteous letter to the lieutenant, and recollected the en- 
gaging, enthusiastic little maiden, as he had seen her on 
the Rhone, but now brought to such a state. He implored 
Mr. Bullock to pursue the track up the mountain, and was 
grieved at this being treated as absurdly impossible, but 
then recollecting himself, “ You could not, sir, but I might 
follow her and make them understand that she must be 
saved — 

“ And give them another captive, said Bullock; “ I 
thought you had had enough of that. You will do more 
good to this flame of yours — 

“No flame, sir. She is a mere child, little older than 
her brother. But she must not remain among these law- 
less savages.-’^ 

“ No! But we donH throw the helve after the hatchet, 
my lad! All you can do is to take this epistle to the French 
consul, who might find it hard to understand without your 
explanations. At any rate, my orders are to bring you 
safe on board again. 

Arthur had no choice but to submit, and Captain Beres- 
ford, who had a wife and children at home, was greatly 
touched by the sight of the childish writing of the poor lit- 
tle motherless girl; above all when Arthur explained that 
the high-sounding title of Abbe de St. Eudoce only meant 
one who was more likely to be a charge than a help to her. 

France was for the nonce allied with England, and the 
dread of passing to Sweden through British seas had appar- 
ently been quite futile, since, if Cai3tain Beresford recol- 
lected the Irish blood of the count, it was only as an addi- 
tional cause for taking interest in him. Toward the 
Moorish pirates the interest of the two nations united them. 
It was intolerable to think of the condition of the captives; 
and the captain, anxious to lose no time, rejoiced that his 
orders were such as to justify him in sailing at once for Al- 
giers to take effectual measures with the consul before let- 
ting the family know the situation of the poor Demoiselle 
de Bourke. 


118 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


CHAPTER XL 

THE PIRATE CITY. 

With dazed vision unawares 
Prom the long alley’s latticed shade 
Emerged, I came upon the^reat 
Pavilion of the Caliphat. 

Right to the carven cedam doors, 

Flung inward over spangled floors, 

Broad-based flights of marble stairs 
Ran up with golden balustrade. 

After the fashion of the time. 

And humor of the golden prime 
Of good Haroun Alraschid. 

Tennyson. 

Civilized and innocuous existence has no doubt been a 
blessing to Algiers as well as to the entire Mediterranean, 
but it has not improved the picturesqueness of its aspect 
any more than the wild and splendid “ tiger, tiger burning 
bright,^ ^ would be more ornamental with his claws pared, 
the fiery gleam of his yellow eyes quenched, and his spirit 
tamed, so as to render him only an exaggerated domestic 
cat. The steamer, whether of peace, or war, is a melan- 
choly substitute for the splendid though sinister galley, 
with her ranks of oars and towers of canvas, or for tho 
dainty lateen-sailed vessels, skimming the waters like flying- 
fish, and the Frank garb ill replaces the graceful Arab 
dress. The Paris-like block of houses ill reiDlaces the 
graceful Moorish architecture, undisturbed when the 
“ Calypso sailed into the harbor, and the amphitheater- 
like city rose before her, in successive terraces of dazzling 
white, interspersed with j)alms and other trees here and 
there, with mosques and minarets rising above them, and 
with a crown of strong fortifications. The harbor itself was 
protected by a strongly fortified mole, and some parley 
passed with the governor of the strong and grim-looking 
castle adjacent~a huge round tower erected by the Span- 
iards, and showing three ranks of brazen teeth in the shape 
of guns. 

Finally, the Algerines having been recently brought to 
thdr bearings, as Captain Beresford said, entrance was per- 
mitted, and the Calypso enjoyed the shelter of the 


A MODEKN TELEMACIIUS. 


119 


mole; while lie, in full-dress uniform, took boat and went 
ashore, and. with him the two escaped prisoners. Fareek 
remained on board till the English consul could be consult- 
ed on his fate. 

England and France were on curious terms with Algiers. 
The French had bombarded the city in 1686, and had ob- 
tained a treaty by which a consul constantly resided in 
the city, and the persons and property of French sub- 
jects were secured from piracy, or if captured were 
always released. The English had made use of the posses- 
sion of Gibraltar and Minorca to enforce a like treaty. 
There was a little colony of European merchants— English, 
French, and Dutch — in the lower town, near the harbor, 
above which the Arab town rose, as it still rises, in a steep 
stair. Ships of all- these nations traded at the port, and 
quite recently the English consul, Thomas Thompson by 
name, had vindicated the honor of his flag by citing before 
the Dey a man who had insulted him on the narrow cause- 
way of the mole. The Moor was sentenced to receive 2200 
strokes of bastinado on the feet, 1000 the first day, 1200 
on the second, and he died in consequence, so that the En- 
glishmen safely walked the narrow streets. The Dey who 
had inflicted this punishment was, however, lately dead. 
Mehemed had been elected and installed by the chief Janis- 
saries, and it remained to be proved whether he would show 
himself equally anxious to be on good terms with the Chris- 
tian Powers. 

Arthur’s heart had learned to beat at sight of the British 
ensign with emotions very unlike those with which he had 
seen it wave at Sheriff muir; but it looked strange above 
the low walls of a Moorish house, plain outside, but with a 
richly cusped and painted horse-shoe arch at the entrance 
to a lovely cloistered court, with a sparkling fountain sur- 
rounded by orange-trees with fruit of all shades from green 
to gold. Servants in white garments and scarlet fezzes, 
black, brown, or white (by courtesy), seemed to swarm in 
all directions; and one of them called a youth in European 
garb, but equally dark-faced with the rest, and not too 
good an English scholar. However, he conducted them 
through a still more beautiful court, lined with brilliant 
mosaics in the spandrels of the exquisite arches supported 
on slender shining marble columns. 

Mr. Thompson’s English coat and hearty English face 


120 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


looked incongruous, as at sight of the blue and white uni- 
form he came forward with all the hospitable courtesy due 
to a post-captain. There was shaking of hands, and doffing 
of cocked hats, and calling for wine, and pipes, and coffee, 
in the Alhambra-like hall, where a table covered with pa- 
pers tied with red tape, in front of a homely leathern chair, 
looked more home-like than suitable. Other chairs there 
were for Frank guests, who preferred them to the divan 
and piles of cushions on which the Moors transacted busi- 
ness. 

“ AVhat can 1 do for you, sir?” he asked of the captain, 
‘‘ or for this little master, he added, looking at Ulysse, 
who was standing by Arthur. ‘‘ He is serving the king 
early.” 

“ I donT belong to your King George,” broke out the 
young gentleman. ‘‘ He is an usurpateur. I have only 
this uniform on till I can get my proper clothes. I am the 
son of the Comte de Bourke, Embassador to Spain and 
Sweden. I serve no one but King Louis!” 

‘‘ That is plain to be seen!” said Mr. Thompson. ‘‘ The 
Gallic cock crows early. But is he indeed the son of Count 
Bourke, about whom the French consul has been in such 
trouble?” 

“ Even so, sir,” replied the captain. I am come to 
ask you to present him, with this gentleman, Mr. Hope, to 
your French colleague. Mr. Hope, to whom the child^s 
life and liberty are alike owing, has information to give 
which may lead to the rescue of the boy^s sister and. uncle 
with their servants.” 

Mr. Thompson had heard of a Moorish galley coming in 
with an account of having lost a Genoese prize, with ladies 
on board, in the late storm. He was sure that the tidings 
Mr. Hope brought would be most welcome, but he knew 
that the French consul was gone up with a distinguished 
visitor, M. Dessault, for an audience of the Hey; and, in 
the meantime, his guests must dine with him. And Arthur 
narrated his adventures. 

The consul shook his head when he heard of Djigheli 
Bay. 

“ Those fellows, the Cabeleyzes, hate the French, and 
make little enough of the Dey, though they do send home 
Moors who fall into their hands. Did you see a ruined fort 
on a promontory? That was the Bastion de France. The 


A MODEKK TELEMACHUS. 


121 


old King Louis put it up and garrisoned it, but these 
rogues contrived a surprise, and made four hundred pris- 
oners, and ever since they have been neither to have nor to 
hold. Well for you, young gentleman, that you did not 
fall into their hands, but those of the country Moors — ver}" 
decent folk — descended, they say, from the Spanish Moors. 
A renegade got you off, did he? Yes, they will sometimes 
do that, though at an awful risk. If they are caught, they 
are hung up alive on hooks to the walls. You had an es- 
cape, I can tell you, and so had he, poor fellow, of being 
taken alive. 

“ He knew the risk!^^ said Arthur, in a low voice; “ but 
my mother had once been good to him, and he dared every- 
thing for me.^-’ 

The consul readily estimated Arthur^s legacy as amount- 
ing to little less than £200, and was also ready to give him 
bills of exchange for it. The next question was as to 
Kareek. To return him to his own country was impossi- 
ble; and though the consul offered to buy him of Arthur, 
not only did the young Scot revolt at the idea of making 
traffic of the faithful fellow, but Mr. Thompson owned that 
there might be some risk in Algiers of his being recognized 
as a runaway; and though this was very slight, it was bet- 
ter not to give any cause of offense. Captain Beresford 
thought the poor man might be disposed of at Port Mahon, 
and Arthur kept to himself that Tam^s bequest was sacred 
to him. His next wish was for clothes to which he might 
have a better right than to the uniform of the senior mid- 
shipman of H.M.S. ‘‘ Calypso — a garb in which he did 
not like to appear before the French consul. Mr. Thomp- 
son consulted his Greek clerk, and a chest belonging to a 
captured merchantman, which had been claimed as British 
property, but had not found an owner, was opened, and 
proved to contain a wardrobe sufficient to equip Arthur 
like other gentlemen of the day, in a dark crimson coat, 
with a little gold lace about it, and the rest of the dress 
white, a wide beaver hat, looped up with a rosette, and every- 
thing, indeed, except shoes, and he was obliged to retain 
those of the senior midshipman. With his dark hair tied 
back, and a suspicion of powder, he found himself more 
like the youth whom Lady Nithsdale had introduced in 
Mme. de Varennes's salon than he had felt for the last 
month; and, moreover, his shyness and awkwardness had 


122 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


in great measure disappeared during liis vicissitudes, and he 
had made many steps toward manhood. 

Ulysse had in the meantime been consigned to a kind, 
motherly, portly Mrs. Thompson, who, accustomed as she 
was to hearing. of strange adventures, was aghast at what the 
child had undergone, and was enchanted with the little 
Trench gentleman who spoke English so well, and to whom 
his grand seigneur airs returned by instinct in contact with 
a European lady; but his eye instantly sought Arthur, nor 
would he be content without a seat next to his protector at 
the dinner, early as were all dinners then, and a compound 
of Eastern and Western dishes, the latter very welcome to 
the travelers, and affording the consuTs wife themes of dis- 
course on her difficulties in compounding them. 

Pipes, siesta, and coffee followed, Mr. Thompson assur- 
ing them that his French colleague would not be ready to 
receive them till after the like repose had been undergone, 
and that he had already sent a billet to announce their 
coming. 

The French consulate was not distant. The fletcr~cie4is 
waved over a hous^ similar to Mr. Thompson \ but they 
were admitted with greater ceremony, when Mr. Thomp- 
son at length conducted them. Servants and slaves, brown 
and black, clad in white with blue sashes, and white 
officials in blue liveries, were drawn up in the first court in 
two lines to receive them; and the chevalier, taking it all 
to himself, paraded in front with the utmost grandeur, un- 
til, at the next archway, two gentlemen, resplendent in 
gold lace, came forward with low bows. At sight of the 
little fellow there were cries of joy. M. Dessault spread 
out his arms, clasped the child to his breast, and shed tears 
over him, so that the less emotional Englishmen thought 
at first that they must be kinsmen. However, Arthur came 
in for a like embrace as the boy ^s preserver; and if Captain 
Beresford had not stepped back and looked uncomprehend- 
ing and rigid he might have come in for the same. 

Seated in the veranda, Arthur told his tale and presented 
the letter, over which there were more tears, as, indeed, 
well there might be over the condition of the little girl and 
her simple mode of describing it. It was nearly a month 
since the corsair had arrived, and the story of the Genoese 
tartane being captured and lost with French ladies on board 
had leaked out. The French consul had himself seen and 


A MODEEJn^ telemachus. 


123 


interrogated the Dutch renegade captain, had become con- 
vinced of the identity of the unfortunate passengers, and 
had given up all hopes of them, so that he greeted the boy 
as one risen from the dead. 

To know that the boy^s sister and uncle were still in the 
hands of the Oabeleyzes was almost worse news than the 
death of his mother, for this wild Arab tribe had a terrible 
preutation even among the Moors and Turks. 

The only thing that could be devised after consultation 
between the two consuls, the French envoy, and the English 
captain, was that an audience should be demanded of the 
Dey, and Estelle^s letter presented the next morning. 
Meanwhile Arthur and Ulysse were to remain as guests at 
the English consulate. The French one would have made 
them welcome, but there was no lady in his house; and 
Mrs. Thompson had given Arthur a hint that his little 
charge would be. the better for womanly care. 

There was further consultation whether young Hope as a 
runaway slave — who had, however, carried off a relapsed 
renegade with him — would be safe on shore beyond the pre- 
cincts of the consulate; but as no one had any claim on 
him, and it might be desirable to have his evidence at hand, 
it was thought safe that he should remain, and Captain 
Beresford promised to come ashore in the morning to join 
the petitioners to the Dey. 

Perhaps he was not sorry, any more than was Arthur, for 
the opportunity of beholding the wonderful city and palace, 
which were like a dream of beauty. He came ashore early, 
with two or three officers, all in full uniform; and the aud- 
ience having been granted, the whole party — consuls, M. 
Dessault, and their attendants — mounted the steep, narrow 
stone steps leading up the hill between the walls of houses 
with fantastically carved door-ways or lattices; while bare- 
legged Arabs niched themselves into every coigne of van- 
tage with baskets of fruit or eggs, or else embroidering pil- 
lows and slippers with exquisite taste. 

The beauty of the buildings was unspeakable, and they 
projected enough to make a cool shade — only a narrow 
fragment of deep blue sky being visible above them. The 
party did not, however, ascend the whole 497 steps, as the 
abode of the Dey was then not the citadel, but the palace 
of Djenina in the heart of the city. Turning aside, they 


124 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


made their way thither over terraces partly in the rock:, 
partly on the roofs of houses. 

Fierce-looking Janissaries, splendidly equipped, guarded 
the entrance, with an air so proud and consequential as to 
remind Arthur of poor YusuFs assurances of the magnifi- 
cence that might await little Ulysse as an Aga of that 
corps. Even as they admitted the infidels they looked de- 
fiance at them from under the manifold snowy folds of 
their mighty turbans. 

If the beauty of the consuls’ houses had struck and 
startled Arthur, far more did the region into which he was 
now admitted seem like a dream of fairy-land as he passed 
through ranks of orange-trees round sparkling fountains — 
worthy of Versailles itself — courts surrounded with cloisters, 
sparkling with priceless mosaics, in those brilliant colors 
which Eastern taste alone can combine so as to avoid gaudi- 
ness, arches and columns of ineffable grace and richness, 
halls with domes emulating the sky, or else ceiled with 
white marble lace-work, whose tracery seemed delicate and 
varied as the richest Venice point! But the wonderful 
beauty seemed to him to have in it something terrible and 
weird, like that fairy-land of his native country, whose glory 
and charm is overshadowed by the knowledge of the teinds 
to be paid to hell. It was an unnatural, incomprehensible 
world; and from longing to admire and examine, he only 
wished to be out of it, felt it a relief to fix his eyes upon 
the uniforms of the captain and the consuls, and did not 
wonder that Ulysse, instead of proudly heading the proces- 
sion, shrunk up to him and clasped his hand as his pro- 
tector. 

The human figures were as strange as the architecture; 
the glittering of Janissaries in the outer court, which seemed 
a sort of guard- room, the lines of those on duty in the next, 
and in the third court the black slaves in white garments, 
enhancing the blackness of their limbs, each with a formid- 
able curved cimeter. At the golden cusped arch-way be- 
yond, all had to remove their shoes as though entering a 
mosque. . The consuls bade the new-comers submit to this, 
adding that it was only since the recent victory that it had 
not been needful to lay aside the sword on entering the 
Dey’s august presence. The chamber seemed to the eyes 
of the strangers one web of magic splendor— gold-crusted 
lace- work above, arches on one side open to a beauteous 


A MODERl^ TELEMACHUS. 


125 


garden, and opposite semi-circles of richly robed Janissary 
officers, all culminating in a dazzling throne, where sat a 
white-turbaned figure, before whom the visitors all had to 
bow lower than European independence could well brook. 

The Eey’s features were not very distinctly seen at the 
distance where etiquette required them to stand; but 
Arthur thought him hardly worthy to be master of such 
fine-looking beings as Abou Ben Ze^>;ri and many others of 
the Moors, being in fact a little sturdy Turk, with Tartar 
features, not nearly so graceful as the Moors and Arabs, 
nor so handsome and imposing as the Janissaries of Circas- 
sian blood. 

Turkish was the court language; and even if he under- 
stood any other, an interpreter was a necessary part of the 
etiquette. M. Dessault instructed the interpreter, who 
understood with a readiness which betrayed that he was one 
of the many renegades in the Algerine service. 

The Dey was too dignified to betray much emotion; but 
he spoke a few words, and these were understood to profess 
his willingness to assist in the matter. A richly clad official, 
who was, Mr. Thompson whispered, a Secretary of State, 
came to attend the party in a smaller but equally beautiful 
room, where pipes and coffee were served, and a consulta- 
tion took place with the two consuls, which was, of course, 
incomprehensible to the anxious listeners. M. Dessault's 
interest was deeply concerned in the matter, since he was a 
connection of the Varennes family, to which poor Mme. de 
Bourke belonged. 

Commands from the Dey, it was presently explained,, 
would be utterly disregarded by these wild mountaineers — 
nay, would probably leM to the muder of the captives in 
defiance. But it was known that if these wild beings paid 
deference to any one, it was to the Grand Marabout at 
Bugia; and the secretary promised to send a letter in the 
Dey^s name, which, with a considerable present, might in- 
duce him to undertake the negotiation. Therewith the aud- 
ience terminated, after M. Dessault had laid a splendid dia- 
mond snuff-box at the feet of the secretary. ^ 

The consuls were somewhat disgusted at the notion of 
having recourse to the Marabouts, whom the French consuls 
called vilains charlatan, and the English one filthy scoun- 
drels and impostors. Like the Indian Fakirs, opined Cap- 
tain Beresford; like the begging friars, said M. Dessault, 


126 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


and to this the consuls assented. Just, however, as the 
Dominicans, besides the low class of barefooted friars, had 
a learned and cultivated set of brethren in high repute at 
the Universities, and a general at Rome, so it appeared 
that the Marabouts, besides their wild crew of masterful 
beggars, living at free quarters, partly through pretended 
sanctity, partly through the awe inspired by cabalistic arts, 
had a higher class who dwelt in cities, and were highly 
esteemed, for the sake of either ten years^ abstinence from 
food or the attainment of fifty sciences, by one or other of 
which means an angelic nature was held to be attained. 

Fifty sciences! This greatly astonished the strangers, 
but they were told by the residents that all the knowledge 
of the highly cultivated Arabs of Bagdad and the Moors 
of Spain had been handed on to the select few of their Afri- 
can descendants, and that really beautiful poetry was still 
produced by the Marabouts. Certainly no one present 
could doubt of the architectural skill and taste of the Alger- 
ines, and Mr. Thompson declared that not a tithe of the 
wonders of their mechanical art had been seen, describing 
the wonderful silver tree of Tlemcen, covered with birds, 
who, by the action of wind, were made to produce the 
songs of each different species which they represented, till a 
falcon on the topmost branch uttered a harsh cry, and all 
became silent. General education had, however, fallen to 
a low ebb among the population, and the wisdom of the 
ancients was chiefly concentrated among the higher class of 
Marabouts, whose head-quarters were at Bugia, and their 
present chief, Hadji Eseb Ben Hassan, had the reputation 
of a saint, which the consuls believed to be well founded. 

The Cabeleyzes, though most irregular Moslems, were 
extremely superstitious as regarded the supernatural arts 
supposed to be possessed by the Marabouts, and if these 
could be induced to take up the cause of the prisoners, 
there would be at least some chance of their success. 

And not long after the party had arrived at the French . 
consulate, where they were to dine, a messenger arrived 
with a parcel rolled up in silk, embroidered with gold, and 
containing a strip of paper beautifully emblazoned, and in 
Turkish characters. The consul read it, and found it to 
be a really strong recommmendation to the Marabout to do 
his utmost for the servants of the Dey^s brother, the King 
of France, now in the hands of the children of Shaitan. 


A MODERI^ TELEMACHUS. 


127 


“ Well purchased/’ said M. Dessault; though that 
snuff-box came from the hands of the Elector of Bavaria!’^ 

As soon as the meal was over, the French consul, in- 
stead of taking his siesta as usual, began to take measures 
for chartering a French tartane to go to Bugia immediately. 
He found there was great interest excited, not only among 
the Christian merchants, but among Turks, Moors, and 
Jews, so horrible was the idea of captivity among the 
Oabeleyzes. The Dey set the example of sending down five 
purses of sequins tow^ard the young lady’s ransom, and 
many more contributions came in unasked. It was true 
that the bearers expected no small consideration in return, 
but this was willingly given, and the feeling manifested was 
a perfect astonishment to all the friends at the consulate. 

The French national interpreter, Ibrahim Aga, was 
charged with the negotiations with the Marabout. Arthur 
entreated to go with him, and with some hesitation this 
was agreed to, since the sight of an old friend might be 
needed to reassure any survivors of the poor captives — for 
it was hardly thought possible that all could still survive 
the hardships of the mountains in the depth of winter, even 
if they were spared by the ferocity of their captors. 

Ulysse, the little son and heir, was not to be exposed to 
the perils of the seas till his sister’s fate was decided, and 
accordingly he was to remain under the care of Mrs. 
Thompson; while Captain Beresford meant to cruise about 
in the neighborhood, having a great desire to know the 
result of the enterprise, and hoping also that if Mile, de 
Bourke still lived he might be permitted to restore her to 
her relations. Letters, clothes, and comforts were pro- 
vided, and placed under the charge of the interpreter and 
of Arthur, together with a considerable gratuity for the 
Marabout, and authority for any ransom that Cabeleyze 
rapacity might require — still, however, with great doubt 
whether all might not be too late. 


12S 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


CHAPTER XIL 

ON THE MOUNTAINS. 

We can not miss him. He doth make our fire, 

Fetch in our wood, and serve in offices 
That profit us. 

Tempest, 

Bugia, though midway on the “ European lake/^ is al- 
most unknown to modern travelers, though it has become 
a French possession. 

It looked extremely beautiful when the French tartane 
entered it, rising from the sea like a magnificent amphi- 
theater, at the foot of the mountains that circled round it, 
and guarded by stern battlemented castles, while the arches 
of one of the great old Roman aqueducts made a noble cord 
to the arc described by the lower part of the town. 

The harbor, a finer one naturally than that of Algiers, 
contained numerous tartanes and other vessels, for, as 
Ibrahim Aga, who could talk French very well, informed 
Arthur, the inhabitants were good workers in iron, and 
drove a trade in plow-shares and othei‘ imj^lements, besides 
wax and oil. But it was no resort of Franks, and he in- 
sisted that Arthur should only come on shore in a Moorish 
dress, which had been provided at Algiers. Thanks to 
young Hope^s naturally dark complexion, and the exposure 
of the last month, he might very well pass for a Moor; and 
he had learned to wear the white caftan, wide trousers, 
broad sash, and scarlet fez, circled with muslin, so natural- 
ly that he was not likely to be noticed as a European. 

The city, in spite of its external beauty, proved to be 
ruinous within, and in the midst of the Moorish houses and 
courts still were visible remnants of the old Roman town 
that had in past ages flourished there. Like Algiers, it had 
narrow climbing streets, excluding sunshine, and through 
these the guide Ibrahim had secured led the way; while in 
single file came the interpreter, Arthur, two black slaves 
bearing presents for the Marabout, and four men besides as 
escort. Once or twice there was a vista down a broader 
space, with an awning over it, where selling and buying 
were going on, always of some single species of merchandise. 


A MODERN TELEMAOHITS. 


129 


Thus they arrived at one of those Moorish houses, to 
whose beauty Arthur was becoming accustomed. It had, 
however, a less luxurious and grave aspect than the palaces 
of Algiers, and the green color sacred to the Prophet pre- 
vailed in the inlaid work, which Ibrahim Aga told him 
consisted chiefly of maxims from the Koran. 

Ko soldiers were on guard, but there were a good many 
young men wholly clad in white — neophytes endeavoring to 
study the fifty sciences, mostly sitting on the ground, writ- 
ing copies, either of the sacred books, or of the treatises on 
science and medicine which had descended from time al- 
most immemorial; all rehearsed aloud what they learned or 
wrote, so as to produce a strange hum. A grave ofiicial, 
similarly clad, but with green sash, came to meet them, 
and told them that the chief Marabout was sick; but on 
hearing from the interpreter that they were bearers of a 
letter from the Dey, he went back with the intelligence, and 
presently returned salaaming very low, to introduce them 
to another of the large halls with lace- work ceilings, where 
it was explained that the Grand Marabout was, who was 
suffering from ague. The fit was passing off, and he would 
be able to attend to his honored guests so soon as they had 
partaken of the coffee and the pipes which were presented 
to them. 

After a delay, very trying to Arthur^s anxiety, though 
beguiled by such coffee and tobacco as he was never likely 
to encounter again, Hadji Eseb Ben Hassan, a venerable- 
looking man, appeared, with a fine white beard and keen 
eyes, slenderly formed, and with an air of very considerable 
ability — much more so than the Dey, in all his glittering 
splendor of gold, jewels, and embroidery, whereas this old 
man wore the pure white woolen garments of the Moor, 
with the green sash, and an emerald to fasten the folds of 
his white turban. 

Ibrahim Aga prostrated himself as if before the Dey, and 
laid before the Marabout, as a first gift, a gold watch; 
then, after a blessing had been given in return, he pro- 
duced with great ceremony the Dey's letter, to which every 
one in the apartment did obeisance by touching the floor 
with their foreheads, and the Grand Marabout further 
rubbed it on his brow before proceeding to'read it, which 
he chose to do for himself, chanting it out in a low, hum- 
ming voice. It was only a recommendation, and the other 


130 


A MODEEN TELEMACHUS. 


letter was from the French consul containing all particu- 
lars. The Marabout seemed much startled and interrogated 
the interpreter. Arthur could follow them in some de- 
gree, and presently the keen eye of the old man seemed to 
detect his interest, for there was a pointing to him, an ex- 
planation that he had been there, and presently Hadji Eseb 
addressed a question to him in the vernacular Arabic. He 
understood and answered, but the imperfect language or 
his looks betrayed him, for Hadjii Eseb demanded, Thou 
art Frank, my son?’^ 

Ibrahim Aga, mortally afraid of the consequences of 
having brought a disguised Giaour into these sacred pre- 
cincts, began what Arthur perceived to be a lying assurance 
of his having embraced Islam; and he was on the point of 
breaking in upon the speech, when the Marabout observed 
his gesture, and said, gravely, “ My son, falsehood is not 
needed to shield a brave Christian; a faithful worshiper of 
Issa Ben Mariam receives honor if he does justice and 
works righteousness according to his own creed, even 
though he be blind to the true faith. Is it true, good 
youth, that thou art — not as this man would have me be- 
lieve — one of the crew from Algiers, but art come to strive 
for the release of thy sister?’’ 

Arthur gave the history as best he could, for his month’s 
practice had made him able to speak the vernacular so as 
to be fairly comprehensible, and the Marabout, who was 
evidently a man of very high abilities, often met him half- 
way, and suggested the word at which he stumbled. He 
was greatly touched by the account, even in the imperfect 
manner in which the youth could give it; and there was no 
doubt that he was a man of enlarged mind and beneficence, 
who had not only mastered the fifty sciences, but had seen 
something of the world. He had not only made his pil- 
grimage to Mecca more than once, but had been at Con- 
stantinople, and likewise at Tunis and Tripoli; thus, with 
powers both acute and awake, he understood more than his 
countrymen of European Powers and their relation to one 
another. As a cinlized and cultivated man, he was horri- 
fied at the notion of the tenderly nurtured child being in 
the clutches of savages like the Cabeleyzes; but the first 
difficulty was to find out where she was; for, as he said, 
pointing toward the mountains, they were a wide space, 
and it would be hunting a partridge on the hili p , 


A MODEKN TELEMACHTJS. 


131 


Looking at his chief councilor, A2im Eeverdi, he de- 
manded whether some of the wanderers of their order, 
whom he named, could not be sent through the mountains 
to discover where any such prisoners might be; but after 
going into the court in quest of these persons, Azim re- 
turned with tidings that a Turkish soldier had returned on 
the previous day to the town, and had mentioned that on 
Mount Oouco, Sheik Abderrahman was almost at war with 
his subordinates, Eyoub and Ben Yakoub, about some ship- 
wrecked Frank captives, if they had not already settled the 
matter by murdering them all, and, as was well known, 
nothing would persuade this ignorant, lawless tribe that 
nothing was more abhorrent to the Prophet than human 
sacrifices. 

Azim had already sent two disciples to summon the Turk 
to the presence of the Grand Marabout, and in due time he 
appeared — a rough, heavy, truculent fellow enough, but 
making awkward salaams as one in great awe of the pres- 
ence in which he stood — unwilling "awe perhaps — full of 
superstitious fear tempered by pride — ^for the haughty 
Turks revolted against homage to one of the subject race 
of Moors. 

His language was only now and then comprehensible to 
Arthur, but Ibrahim kept up a running translation into 
French for his benefit. 

There were captives — infidels — saved from the wreck, he 
knew not how many, but he was sure of one — a little maid 
with hair like the unwound cocoon, so that they called her 
the Daughter of the Silkworm. It was about her that the 
chief struggle was. She had fallen to the lot of Ben Ya- 
koub, who had been chestnut-gathering by the sea at the 
time of the wreck; but when he arrived on Mount Couco 
the Sheik Abderrahman had claimed her and hers as the 
head of the tribe, and had carried her ofi to his own adowara 
in the valley of Ein Gebel. 

The Turk, Murad, had been induced by Yakoub to join 
him and sixteer^more armed men whom he had got together 
to demand her. For it was he who had rescued her from 
the waves, carried her up the mountains, fed her all this 
time, and he would not have her snatched away from him, 
though for his part Murad thought it would have been well 
to be quit of them, for not only were they Giaours, but he 
verily believed them to be of the race of Jinns. The little 


132 


A MODEEIn’ TELEMACHUS. 


fair-haired maid had papers with strange signs on them. 
She wrote — actually wrote — a thmg that he believed no 
Sultana Velide even had ever been known to do at Stam- 
boul. Moreover, she twisted strings about on her hands in 
a manner that was fearful to look at. It was said to be 
only to amuse the children, but for his part he believed it 
was for some evil spell. What was certain was that the 
other, a woman full grown, could, whenever any one 
offended her, raise a Jinn in a cloud of smoke, which 
caused such sneezing that she was lost sight of. And yet 
these creatures had so bewitched their captors that there 
were like to be hard blows before they were disposed of, 
unless his advice were taken to make an end of them alto- 
gether. Indeed, two of the men, the mad Santon and the 
chief slave, had been taken behind a bush to be sacrificed, 
when the Daughter of the Silkworm came between with her 
incantations, and fear came upon Sheik Yakoub. Murad 
evidently thought it highly advisable that the chief Mara- 
bout should intervene to put a stop to these doings, 
and counteract the mysterious influence exercised by these 
strange beings. 

High time, truly, Arthur and Ibrahim Aga likewise felt 
it, to go to the rescue, since terror and jealousy might, it 
appeared, at any time impel ces iarbares feroces, as Ibrahim 
called them, to slaughter their prisoners. To their great 
joy, the Marabout proved to be of the same opinion, in 
spite of his sickness, which, being an intermitting ague, 
would leave him free for a couple of days, and might be 
driven off by the mountain air. He promised to set forth 
early the next day, and kept the young man and the inter- 
preter as his guests for the night, Ibrahim going first on 
board to fetch the parcel of clothes and provisions which 
M. Dessault had sent for the abbe and Mile, de Bourke, 
and for an installment of the ransom, which the Hadji 
Eseb assured him might safely be carried under his own 
sacred protection. 

Arthur did not see much of his host, who seemed to be 
very busy consulting with his second in command on the 
preparations, for probably the expedition was a delicate 
undertaking, even for him, and his companions had to be 
carefully chosen. 

Ibrahim ' had advised Arthur to stay quietly where he 
was, and not venture into the city, and he spent his time 


A MODERK TELEATACHUS. 


133 


as lie best might by the help of a narghile, which was hos- 
pitably presented to him, though the strictness of Marabout 
life forbade the use alike of tobacco and co:ffee. 

Before dawn the courts of the house were astir. Mules, 
handsomely trapped, were provided to carry the principal 
persons of the party wherever it might be possible, and 
there were some spare ones, ridden at first by inferiors, but 
intended for the captives, should they be recovered. 

It was very cold, being the last week in November, and 
all were wrapped in heavy woolen haiks over their white 
garments, except one wild-looking fellow, whose legs and 
arms were bare, and who only seemed to possess one gar- 
ment of coarse dark sackcloth. He skipped and ran by the 
side of the mules, chanting and muttering, and Ibrahim 
observed in French that he was one of the Sunakites, or 
fanatic Marabouts, and advised Arthur to beware of him; 
but, though dangerous in himself, his presence would be a 
sufficient protection from all other thieves or vagabonds. 
Indeed, Arthur saw the fellow glaring unpleasantly at him, 
when the sun summoned all the rest to their morning de- 
votions. He was glad that he had made the fact of his 
Christianity known, for he could no more act Moslem than 
he one, and Hadji Eseb kept the Sunakite in check by a 
stern glance, so that no harm ensued. 

Afterward Arthur was bidden to ride near the chief, who 
talked a good deal, asking intelligent questions. Gibraltar 
had impressed him greatly, and it also appeared that in one 
of his pilgrimages the merchant vessel he was in had been 
rescued from some Albanian pirates by an English ship, 
which held the Turks as allies, and thus saved them from 
undergoing vengeance for the sufferings of the Greeks. 
Thus the good old man felt that he owed a debt of grati- 
tude which Allah required him to pay, even to the infidel. 

Up steep roads the mules climbed. The first night the 
halt was at a Cabyle village, where hospitality was eagerly 
offered to persons of such high reputation for sanctity as 
the Marabouts; but afterward habitations grew more scanty 
as the ground rose higher, and there was no choice but to 
encamp in the tents brought by the attendants, and which 
seemed to Arthur a good exchange for the dirty Cabyle 
huts. 

Altogether the journey took six days. The mules chmbed 
along wild paths on the verge of giddy precipices, where 


134 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


even on foot Arthur would have hesitated to venture. The 
scenery would now be thought magnificent, but it was sim- 
ply frightful to the mind of the early eighteenth century, 
especially when a constant watch had to be kept to avoid 
the rush of stones, or avalanches, on an almost impercepti- 
ble, nearly perpendicular path, where it was needful to 
trust to the guidance of the Sunakite, the only one of the 
cavalcade who had been there before. 

On the last day they found themselves on the borders of 
a slope of pines and other mountain-growing trees, border- 
ing a wide valley or ravine where the Sunakite hinted that 
Abderrahman might be found. 

The cavalcade pursued a path slightly indicated by the 
treading of feet and hoofs, and presently there emerged on 
them from a slighter side track between the red stems of 
the great pines a figure nearly bent double under the weight 
r>f t.wn lino-A facrnts. with a basket of great solid fir-cones 



Very scanty garments seemed to be 


vouchsafed to him, and the bare arms and legs were so 
white, as well as of a length so unusual among Arabs or 
Moors, that simultaneously the Marabout exclaimed, “ One 
of the Giaour captives,^ ^ and Arthur cried out, “ La 
Jeunesse! Laurence!’^ 

There was only just time for a start and a response, 
“ Monsieur Arture! And is it yourself before a howl of 
vituperation was heard — of abuse of all the ancestry of the 
cur of an infidel slave, the father of tardiness — and a sav- 
age-looking man appeared, brandishing a cudgel, with 
which he was about to belabor his unfortunate slave, when 
he was arrested by astonishment, and perhaps terror, at the 
goodly company of Marabouts. Hadji Eseb entered into 
conversation with him, and meanwhile Lanty broke forth, 
“ Oh, wirrah, wirrah. Master Arthur! an^ have they made 
a hay then Moor of ye? By the powers, but this is worse 
than all. What will mademoiselle say? — she that has held 
up the faith of every one of us, like a little saint and martyr 
as she is! Though, to be sure, ye are but a Protestant; 
only these folks don^t know the differ. 

“ If you would let me speak, Laurence,” said Arthur, 
“ you would hear that I am no more a Moslem than your- 
self, only my Frank dress might lead to trouble. We are 
come to deliver you all, with a ransom from the French 


A MODEKN TELEMACHUS. 135 

consul. Are you all safe — mademoiselle and all? and how 
many of you?’^ 

“ Mademoiselle and Monsieur PAbb6 were safe and well 
three days since/ ^ said Lanty; “ but that spalpeen there 
is my muster and poor Victorine^s., and will not let us put 
a foot near them. 

“ Where are they? How many?^^ anxiously asked 
Arthur. 

“ There are five of us altogether/^ said Lanty; “ praise 
be to Him who has saved us thus far. We know the touch 
of cold steel at our throats, as well as ever I knew the poor 
misthress^s hand-bell; and unless our Lady, and St. Law- 
rence, and the rest of them, keep jthe better watch on us, 
the rascals will only ransom us without our heads, so jeal- 
ous and blood-thirsty they are. The Bey of Constantina 
sent for us once, but all we got by that was worse usage 
than the very dogs in Paris, and being drago-pd tbp«P 

weary hills, where Maitre Hebert and ^ 
moiselle every foot of the way on nr* 
ging- our pardon so prettily — n- 
rocks had so bruised her da**^ 

‘ ‘ This is their chief h^ 
prevail on these savages - 

“ And how come y 
Masther Arthur — yoi: 
madame and the litt 

‘ ‘ The chevalier h 
the consuPs house ao ^ 

Now Heaven and 
chevalier safe and well ! ^T i. 

letting fall his burden, as he ' 

and performed a caper which, 

Eyoub^s respect for the Marabov 
of rage, and a tremendous blow 
Lanty, in his joy, seemed to recei 
feather. 

Hadji Eseb averted a further blc 
from Arthur that the poor fellow^ s L 
the tidings of the safety of his n 
touched, and bade that he and Eye 
to the place of durance of the chief p. 

Ibrahim Aga interrogated both Eyoub 
and Lanty in French. The former wa^ 


136 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


ing from his evident awe of the Marabouts, the latter 
voluble with joy and hope. 

Arthur learned that the letter he had found under the 
stone was the fourth that Estelle and Hubert had written. 
There had been a terrible journey up the mountains, when 
Lanty had fully thought Victorine must close her suffer- 
ings in some frightful ravine; but, nevertheless, she had 
recovered health and strength with every day^s ascent 
above the close, narrow valley. They were guarded all the 
way by Arabs armed to the teeth to prevent a rescue by 
the Bey of Oonstantina. 

On their arrival at the valley, which was the head-quar- 
ters of the tribe, the sheik of the entire clan had laid claim 
to the principal captives, and had carried off the young 
lady and her uncle; and in his dwelling she had a boarded 
floor to sleep on, and had been made much more com- 
fortpMft than in the squalid huts below. Her original mas- 
d. however, come to seize her, with the 
'^'irad. Then it was that again there 
than resign them; but on this 
Sheik Abderrahman^s son, a 
w liimself on his knees be- 
s father earnestly for her 

nty, “ and, mayhap, 
b, the villain, ended 
e a council of their 
j xiut; but the gossoon, 
^Dout the place as if he 
dren are, for that matter, 
-ves cats^ cr^les for them, and 
.m stories in her own sweet way 
y — such as may bring her into 
j-ys. Maitre Hebert heard her one 
oory of Moses, and he warned her 
. that fashion it might be the death 
she, ‘ suppose we made Selim, and 
.the rest of them Christians? Sup- 
e tribe to come down and ask bap- 
• lid in the “ Lives of the Saints 
a-e like that they would only get her 
Alt off, if no worse, but he could not 
aat mattered at all at all. She would 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


.37 

have a crown and a palm up in heaven, and VM after her 
name in the calendar on earth, bless her/^ 

Then he went on to tell that Yakoub was furious at the 
notion of resigning his prize, and (Agamemnon-like) de- 
clared that if she were taken from him he should demand 
Victorine from Eyoub. Unfortunately she was recovering 
her good looks in the mountain air; and, worse still, the 
spring of her blessed little Polichinelle was broken, 
though happily no one guessed it, and hitherto it had been 
enough to show them the box. 


CHAPTER Xm. 

CHETSEIS AND BRISEI8. 

The child 

Restore, I pray, her proffered ransom take, 

And in His priest, the Lord of Light revere. 

Then through the ranks assenting murmurs rang. 

The priest to reverence; and the ransom take. 

Homer (Derby.) 

For one moment, before emerging from the forest, look- 
ing through an opening in the trees, down a steep slope, a 
group of children could be seen on the grass in front of the 
huts composing the adowara, little brown figures in scanty 
garments, lying about evidently listening intently to the 
figure, the gleam of whose blonde hair^howed her instantly 
to be Estelle de Bourke. 

However, either the deputation had been descried, or 
Eyoub may have made some signal, for when the cavalcade 
had wound about through the remaining trees, and arrived 
among the huts, no one was to be seen. There was only 
the irregular square huts built of rough stones and thatched 
with reeds, with big stones to keep the thatch on in the 
storm; a few goats were tethered near, and there was a 
rush of the great savage dogs, but they recognized Eyoub 
and Lanty, and were presently quieted. 

“ This is the chief danger,"^ whispered Lanty. “ Pray 
Heaven the rogues do not murder them rather than give 
them up!^^ 

The Sunakite, beginning to make strange contortions 
and mutterings in a low voice, seemed to terrify Eyoub 
greatly. Whether he pointed it out or not, or whether 




A MODERN TELEMACHTJS. 


Eyoub was induced by his gestures to show it, was not clear 
to Arthur^s mind; but at the chief abode, an assemblage 
of two stone hovels and rudely built walls, the party halted, 
and made a loud knocking at the door, Hadji Eseb^’s solemn 
tones bidding those within to open in the name of Allah. 

It was done, disclosing a vista of men with drawn ci me- 
ters. The Marabout demanded without ceremony where 
were the prisoners. 

“ At yonder house, he was answered by Yakoub him- 
self, pointing to the further end of the village. 

“ JDog of a liar,^^ burst forth the Sunakite. Dost thou 
think to blind the eyes of the beloved of Allah, who knoweth 
the secrets of heaven and earth, and hath the sigil of Sulei- 
man Ben Daoud, wherewith to penetrate the secret places 
of the false 

The ferocious-looking guardians looked at each other as 
though under the influence of supernatural terror, and 
then Hadji Eseb spoke: ‘‘ Salaam Aleikum, my children; 
no man need fear who listens to the will of Allah, and ■ 
honors his messengers. 

All made way for the dignified old man and his suite, and 
they advanced into the court, where two men with drawn 
swords were keeping guard over the captives, who were on 
their knees in a corner of the court. 

The sabers were sheathed, and there was a shuffling 
away at the advance of tlie Marabouts, Sheik Yakoub 'mak- 
ing some apology ^out having delayed to admit such 
guests, but excusing himself on the . score of supposing they 
were emissaries sent by those whose authority he so defied 
that he had sworn to slaughter his prisoners rather than 
surrender them. 

Hadji Eseb replied with a quotation from the Koran for- 
bidding cruelty to the helpless, and sternly denounced wrath 
on the transgressors, bidding Yakoub draw off his savage 
body-guard. 

The man was plainly alarmed, more especially as the 
Sunakite broke out into one of his wild wails of denuncia- 
tion, waving his hands like a prophet of wrath, and predict- 
ing famine, disease, pestilence, to these slack observers of 
the law of Mohammed. 

This completed the alarm. The body-guard fled away 
pell-mell, Aakoub after them. His women shut them- 
selves into some innermost recesses, and the field was left 


A MODERN TELEMAOHUS. 


139 


to the Marabouts and the prisoners, who, not understand- 
ing what all this meant, were still kneeling in their corner. 
Hadji Eseb bade Arthur and the interpreter go to reassure 
them. 

At their advance a miserable imbrowned figure, bare- 
footed and half clad in a ragged haik, roped round his 
waist, threw himself before the fair-haired child, crying out 
in imperfect Arabic, ‘‘ Spare her, spare her, great Lord! 
much is to be won by saving her.'’^ 

“We are come to save her,^^ said Arthur in French. 
“ Maitre Hebert, do you not know me?^^ 

Hebert looked up. “ Monsieur Arture! Monsieur 
Arture! Risen from the dead he cried, threw himself 
into the young many’s arms, and burst out into a vehement 
sob; but in a second he recovered his manners and fell 
back, while Estelle looked up. 

“Monsieur Arture,’^ she repeated. “Ah! is it you? 
Then, is my mamma ahve and safe?'’^ 

“Alas! no,^^ replied Arthur; “but your little brother 
is safe and well at Algiers, and this good man, the Mara- 
bout, is come to deliver you.^^ 

“ My mamma said you would protect us, and I knew you 
would come, like Mentor, to save us,’^ said Estelle, clasp- 
ing her hands with ineffable joy. “ Oh, monsieur! I thank 
you next to the good God and- the saints !^^ and she began 
fervently kissihg Arthur^s hand. He turned to salute the 
abbe, but was shocked to see how much more vacant the 
poor gentleman^ s stare had become, and how little he 
seemed to comprehend. 

“ Ah!"’"’ said Estelle, with her pretty, tender, motherly 
air, “ my poor uncle has never seemed to understand since 
that dreadful day when they dragged him and Maitre 
Hebert out into the wood and were going to kill them. 
And he has fever every night. But, oh. Monsieur Arture, 
did you say my brother was safe?^’ she repeated, as if not 
able to dwell enough upon the glad tidings. 

“ And I hope you will soon be with him," said Arthur. 
“ But, mademoiselle, let me present you to the Grand 
Marabout, a sort of Moslem abb6, who has come all this 
way to obtain your release. 

He led Estelle forward, when she made a courtesy fit for 
her grandmother's-^ salon, and in very fluent Cabeleyze 
dialect gave thanks for the kindness oC coming to release 


140 


A MODEEN TELEMACHUS. 


her, and begged him to excuse her uncle, who was sick, 
and, as you say here, stricken of Allah/ ^ 

The little French demoiselle’s grace aud politeness were 
by no means lost on the Marabout, who replied to her gra- 
ciously; and at the sight of her reading M. L)essault’s letter, 
which the interpreter presented to her, one of the suite 
could not help exclaiming, “Ah! if women such as this 
will be went abroad in our streets, there would be nothing 
to hope for in Paradise.” 

Estelle did not seem to have suffered in health ; indeed, 
in Arthur’s eyes, she seemed in these six weeks to have 
grown, and to have more color, while her expression had 
become less childish, deeper, and higher. Her hair did not 
look neglected, , though her dress — the same dark blue 
which she had worn on the voyage — had become very 
ragged and soiled, and her shoes were broken, and tied on 
with strips of rag. 

She gave a little scream of joy when the parcel of clothes 
sent by the French consul was given to her, only longing 
to send some to Victorine before she retired to enjoy the 
comfort of clean and respectable clothes; and in the mean- 
time something was attempted for the comfort of her com- 
panions, though it would not have been safe to put them 
into Frankish garments, and none had been brought. 
Poor Hebert was the very ghost of the stout aud important 
mattre dliotel, and, indeed, the faithful man had borne the 
brunt of all the privations and sufferings, doing his utmost 
to shield and protect his little mistress and her helpless 
uncle. 

When Estelle reappeared, dressed once more like a little 
French lady (at least in the eyes of those who were not 
particular about fit), she found a httle feast being prepared 
for her out of the provisions sent by the consuls; but she 
could not sit down to it till Arthur, escorted by several of 
the Marabout’s suite, had carried a share both of the food 
* and the garments to Lanty and Victorine. 

They, however, were not to be found. The whole 
adowara seemed to be deserted except by a few frightened 
women and children, and Victorine and her Irish swain 
had no doubt been driven off into the woods by Eyoub — no 
Achilles certainly, but equally unwilling with the great 
Pelides to resign Briseis as a substitute for Chryseis. 

It was too late to attempt anything more that night; in- 


141 


A MODERK TELEMAOHUS. 

deed, at sundown it became very cold. A fire was lighted 
in the larger room, in the center, where there was a hole 
for the exit of the smoke. The Marabouts seemed to be 
praying or reciting the Koran on one side of it, for there 
was a continuous chant or hum going on there; but they 
seemed to have no objection to the Christians sitting to- 
gether on the other side conversing and exchanging ac- 
counts of their adventures. Maitre Hebert could not suffi- 
ciently dilate on the spirit, cheerfulness, and patience that 
mademoiselle had displayed through all. He only had to 
lament her imprudence in trying to talk of the Christian 
faith to the children, telling them stories of the saints, and 
doing what, if all the tribe had not been so ignorant, would 
•have brought destruction on them all. “I would not 
have monseigneur there know of it for worlds,^' said he, 
glancing at the Grand Marabout. 

“ Selim loves to hear such things," said Estelle com- 
posedly. ‘‘ I have taught him to say the Paternoster, and 
the meaning of it, and Zuleika can nearly say them.^^ 

Miser icor del’ ^ cried M. Hebert. “What may not 
the child have brought on herself!" 

“ Selim will be a chief," returned Estelle. “ He will 
make his people do as he pleases, or he would do so; but 
now there will be no one to tell him about the true God 
and the blessed Saviour/^ she added sadly. 

“ Mademoiselle!" cried Hebert in indignant anger — 
“ Mademoiselle would not be ungrateful for our safety from 
these horrors. 

“ Oh, no!^^ exclaimed the child. “ I am very happy to 
return to my poor papa, and my brothers, and my grand- 
mamma. But I am sorry for Selim! Perhaps some good 
mission fathers would go out to them like those we heard of 
in Arcadia; and by and by, when I am grown up, I can 
come back with some sisters to teach the women to wash 
their children and not scold and fight. " 

The maitre d’ hotel sighed, and' was reheved when Estelle 
retired to the deserted won^en^s apartments for the night. 
He seemed to think her dangerous language might be un- 
derstood and reported. 

The next morning the Marabout sent messengers, who 
brought back Yakoub and his people, and before many 
hours a sort of council was convened in the court of 
Yakoub^s house, consisting of all the neighboring heads of 


143 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


families, brown men, whose eyes gleamed fiercely out from 
under their haiks, and who were armed to the teeth with 
sabers, daggers, and, if possible, pistols and blunderbusses 
of all the worn-out patterns in Europe — some no doubt; as 
old as the Thirty Years^ War; while those who could not 
attain to these weapons had the long spears of their ances- 
tors, and were no bad representatives of the Amalekites of 
old. 

After all had solemnly taken their seats there was a fresh 
arrival of Sheik Abderrahman and his ferocious-looking 
following. He himself was a man of fine bearing, with a 
great black beard, and a gold-embroidered sash stuck full 
of pistols and knives, and with poor Mme. de Bourke^s best 
pearl necklace round his neck. His son Selim was with 
him, a slim youth, with beautiful soft eyes glancing out 
from under a haik, striped with many colors, such as may 
hav^e been the coat that marked Joseph as the heir. 

There were many salaams and formalities, and then the 
chief Marabout made a speech, explaining the purpose of 
his coming, diplomatically allowing that the Cabeleyzes 
were not subject to the Hey of Algiers, but showing that 
they enjoyed the advantages of the treaty with France, and 
that therefore they were bound to release the unfortunate 
shipwrecked captives, whom they had already plundered of 
all their property. So far Estelle and Arthur, who were 
anxiously watching, crouching behind the wall of the de- 
serted house court, could follow. Then arose yells and 
shouts of denial, and words too rapid to be followed. In a 
lull, Hadji Eseb might be heard proffering ransom, while 
the cries and shrieks so well known to accompany-bargain- 
ing broke out. 

Ibrahim Aga, who stood by the tvall, here told them that 
Yakoub and Eyoub seemed not unwilling to consent to tht^ 
redemption of the male captives, but that they claimed both 
the females. Hebert clinched his teeth, and bade Ibrahim 
interfere and declare that they would never be set free with- 
out his little lady. 

Here, however, the tumult lulled a little, and Abderrah- 
man^s voice was heard declaring that he claimed the Daugh- 
ter of the Silkworm as a wife for his son. 

Ibrahim then sprung to the Marabout ^s side, and was 
heard representing that the young lady was of high and 
noble blood. To which Abderrahman rephed with the dig- 


A MODEKH TELEMACHUS. 


143 


nity of an old lion, that were she the daughter of the King 
of the Franks himself, she would only be a fit mate for the 
King of the Mountains. A fresh roar of Jangling and dis- 
puting began, during which Estelle whispered, “ Poor 
Selim, I know he would believe — he half does already. It 
would be like Clotilda. 

“ And then he would be cruelly murdered, and you too,^^ 
returned Arthui*. 

‘‘ We should be martyrs,^^ said Estelle, as she had so 
often said before; and as Hebert shuddered and cried, ‘‘ Ho 
not speak of such things, mademoiselle, just as there is 
hope,^^ she answered, ‘‘ Oh, no! do not think I want to stay 
in tMs dreadful place — only if I should have to do so — I 
long to go to my brother and my poor papa. Then I can 
send some good fathers to convert them.^^ 

cried Arthur; “what now! They are at one 
another's throats. 

Yakoub and Eyoub with hashing sabers were actually hy- 
ing at each other, but Marabouts were seizing them and 
holding them back, and the Sunakite^s chant arose above 
all the uproar. 

Ibrahim was able to explain that Yakoub insisted that if 
the mistress were appropriated by Abderrahman, the maid 
should be his compensation. Eyoub, who had been the 
foremost in the rescue from the wreck, was furious at the 
demand, and they were on the point of fighting when thus 
withheld; while the Sunakite was denouncing woes on the 
spoiler and the lover of Christians, which made the blood 
of the Cabeleyzes run cold. Their flocks would be dis- 
eased, storms from the mountains would overwhelm them, 
their children would die, their name and race be cut off, if 
infidel girls were permitted to bewitch them and turn them 
from the faith of the prophet. He pointed to young Selim, 
and demanded whether he were not already spell-bound by 
the silken daughter of the Giaour to join in her idolatry. 

There were howls of r^e, a leaping up, a drawing of 
swords, a demand that the unbelievers should die at once. 
It was a cry the captives knew only too Well. Arthur 
grasped a pistol, and loosened his sword, but young Selim 
had thrown himself‘at the Marabout^s feet, sobbing out en- 
treaties that the maiden's life might be saved, and assur- 
ances that he was a stanch believer; while his father, scan- 
dalized at such an exhibition on behalf of any such chattel 


144 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


as a female, roughly snatched him from the ground, and 
insisted on his silence. 

The Marabouts had, at their chief^s signal, ranged them- 
selves in front of the inner court, and the authority of the 
Hadji had imposed silence even on the fanatic. He spoke 
again, making them understand that Frankish vengeance 
in case of a massacre could reach them even in their mount- 
ains when backed by the Dey. And to Abderrahman he 
represented that the only safety for his son, the only peace 
for his tribe, was in the surrender of these two dangerous 
causes of altercation. 

The King of the Mountains was convinced by the 
scene that had just taken place of the inexpedience of re- 
taining the prisoners alive. And some pieces of gold thrust 
into his hand by Ibrahim- may have shown him that much 
might be lost by slaughtering them. 

The Babel which next arose was of the amicable bargain- 
ing sort. And after another hour of suspense the inter- 
preter came to announce that the mountaineers, out of 
their great respect, not for the Dey, but the Marabout, had 
agreed to accept 900 piasters as the ransom of all the five 
captives, and that the Marabout recommended an imme- 
diate start, lest anything should rouse the ferocity of the 
tribe again. 

Estelle^s warm heart would fain have taken leave of the 
few who had been kind to her; but tliis was impossible, for 
the women were in hiding, and she could only leave one or 
two kerchiefs sent from Algiers, hoping Zuleika might have 
one of them. Ibrahim insisted on her being veiled as close- 
ly as a Mohammedan woman as she passed out. One look 
between her and Selim might have been fatal to all ; though 
hers may have been in all childish innocence, she did not 
know how the fiery youth was writhing in his father^s 
grasp, forcibly withheld from rushing after one who had 
been a new life and revelation to him. 

Mayhap the passion was as fieeiing as it was violent, but 
the Marabout knew it boded dafiger to the captives to whom 
he had pledged his honor. He sent them, mounted on 
mules, on in front, while he and his company remained in 
the rear, watcliing till Lanty and Victorine were driven up 
like cattle by Eyoub, to whom he paid an earnest of his 
special share of the ransom. He permitted no pause, not 
even for a greeting between Estelle and poor Victorine, nor 


A MODEKIT TELEMACHUS. 


145 


to clothe the two unfortunates, more than by throwing a 
mantle to poor Victorine, who had nothing but a short pet- 
ticoat and a scanty, ragged, filthy burnoose. She shroud- 
ed herself as well as she could when lifted on her mule, 
scarce perhaps yet aware what had happened to her, only 
that Lanty was near, muttering benedictions and thanks- 
givings as he vibrated between her mule and that of the 
abbe. 

It was only at the evening halt that, in a cave on the 
mountain-side, Estelle and Victorine could cling to each 
other in a close embrace with sobs of joy; and while Estelle 
eagerly produced clothes from her little store of gifts, the 
poor femme de chamlre wept for joy to feel indeed that she 
was free, and shed a fresh shower of tears of joy at the sight 
of a brush and comb. 

Lanty was purring over his foster-brother, and cosseting 
him like a cat over a newly recovered kitten, resolved not 
to see how much shaken the poor abb^^s intellect had been, 
and quite sure that the reverend father would be altogether 
himself when he only had his soutane again. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

WELCOME. 

Well hath the Prophet-chief your bidding done. 

Moore {Lalla Rookh.) 

Bugia was thoroughly Moorish, and subject to attacks of 
fanaticism. Perhaps the grand Marabout did not wholly trust 
the Sunakite not to stir up the populace, for he would not 
take the recovered captives to his palace, avoided the city 
as much as possible, and took them down to the harbor, 
where, beside the old Roman quay, he caused his trusty at- 
tendant, Reverdi, to hire a boat to take them out to the 
French tartane — Reverdi himself going with them to insure 
the fidelity of the boatmen. Estelle would have kissed the 
good old man^s hand in fervent thanks, but, child as she 
was, he shrunk from her touch as an unholy thing; and it 
was enforced on her and Victorine that they were by no 
means to remove their heavy mufflings till they were safe 
on board the tartane, and even out of harbor. The French- 
man in command of the vessel was evidently of the same 


146 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


mind, and, though enchanted to receive them, sent them at 
once below. He said his men had been in danger of being 
mobbed in the streets, and that there were reports abroad 
that the harem of a great Frank chief, and all his treasure, 
were being removed from the Oabel^zes, so that he doubt- 
ed whether all the influence of the Grand Marabout might 
prevent their being pursued by corsairs. 

Right glad was he to recognize the pennant of the 
Calypso outside the harbor, and he instantly ran up a 
signal flag to intimate success. A boat was immediately 
put ofl from the frigate, containing not only Lieutenant 
Bullock, but an officer in scarlet, who had no sooner come 
on deck than he shook Arthur eagerly by the hand, exclaim- 
ing, 

‘‘ ^Tis you, then! I can not be mistaken in poor Daviess 
son, though you were a mere bit bairn when I saw you 
last I 

“Archie Hope!^^ exclaimed Arthur, joyfully. “Can 
you tell me anything of my mother?^^ 

“ She was well when last I heard of her, only sore vexed 
that you should be cut ofl from her by your own fule deed, 
my lad! YeVe thought better of it nowr^^ 

Major Hope was here interrupted by the lieutenant, who 
brought an invitation from Captain Beresford to the whole 
French party to bestow themselves on board the “ Calypso. 
After ascertaining that the Marabout had taken up their 
cause, and that the journey up Mount Couco and back 
again could not occupy less than twelve or foui’teen days, 
he had sailed for Minorca, where he had obtained sanction 
to convey any of the captives who might be rescued to Al- 
giers. He had also seeVi Major Hope, who, on hearing of 
the adventures of his young kinsman, asked leave of ab- 
sence to come in search of him, and became the guest of 
the officers of the “ Calypso.'’^ 

Arthur found himself virtually the head of the party, 
and, after consultation with Ibrahim Aga and Maitre 
Hebert, it was agreed that there would be far more safety, 
as well as better accommodation, in the British ship than 
in the French tartane, and Arthur went down to communi- 
cate the proposal to Estelle, whom the close, little, evil- 
smelling cabin was already making much paler than all her 
privations had done. 

“ An English ship,^^ she said. “ Would my papa ap- 


A MODERN TELEMACHTJB. 147 

prove and her little prim diplomatic air sat comically on 
her. 

“ Oh, yes,^^ said Arthur. “ He himself asked the captain 
to seek for you, mademoiselle. There is peace between our 
countries, you know.^^' 

“ That is good,^^ she said, jumping up. “ For oh! this 
cabin is worse than it is inside Yakoub's hut! Oh, take me 
on deck before I am ill! 

She was able to be her own little charming French and 
Irish self when Arthur led her on deck; and her gracious 
thanks and pretty courtesy made them agree that it would 
have been ten thousand pities if such a creature could not 
have been redeemed from the savage Arabs. 

The whole six were speedily on board the “ Calypso,” 
where Captain Beresford received the little heroine with 
politeness worthy of her own manners. He had given up 
his own cabin for her and Victorine, purchased at Port 
Mahon all he thought she could need, and had even recol- 
lected to procure clerical garments for the abbe — a sight 
which rejoiced Lanty^s faithful heart, though the poor abbe 
was too ill all the time of the voyage to leave his berth. 
Arthur^s arrival was greeted by the Abyssinian with an in- 
articulate howl of delight, as the poor fellow crawled to his 
feet, and began kissing them before he could prevent it. 
Fareek had been the pet of the sailors, and well taken care 
of by the boatswain. He was handy, quick, and useful, 
and Lieutenant Bullock thought he might pick up a living 
as an attendant in the galley; but he showed that he held 
himself to belong absolutely to Arthur, and rendered every 
service to him that he could, picking up what was needful 
in the care of European clothes by imitation of the cap- 
tain^s servant, and showing a dexterity that made it proba- 
ble that his cleverness had been the cause of the loss of a 
tongue that might have betrayed too^.^uch. To young 
Hope he seemed like a sacred legacy fj^n poor Tam, and 
a perplexing one, such as he could • ^rr^’dly leave in his 
dumbness to take the chances of life ^ Jhg sailors. 

His own plans were likewise to be cl nsidered, and Major 
Hope concerned himself much about them. He was a sec- 
ond cousin — a near relation in Scottish estimation — and no 
distant neighbor. His family were Tories, though content 
to submit to the House of Hanover, and had always been 
on friendly terms with Lady Hope. 


148 


A MODERN TELEMACHUS. 


‘‘ I writ at once, on hearing of you, to let her know you 
were in safety,^^ said the major. “ And what do you in- 
tend the noo?^^ 

“ Can I win home?'' anxiously asked Arthur. “ You 
know I never was attainted!" 

“ And what would ye do if you were at home?" 

“ I should see my mother. " 

‘‘ Small doubt of the welcome she would have for you, 
my poor laddie," said the major; “ but w^hat next?" And 
as Arthur hesitated, “ I misdoubt greatly whether Burnside 
would give you a helping hand if you came fresh from col- 
loguing with French Jacobites, though my father and all 
the rest of us at Lynn aye told him that he might thank 
himself and his dour old dominie for your prank — you were 
but a school-boy then — you are a man now; and though 
your poor mother would be blithe to set eyes on you, she 
would be sairly perplexed what gate you had best turn 
thereafter. Now, see here! There's talk of our being 
sent to dislodge the Spaniards from Sicily. You are a likely 
lad, and the colonel would take my word for you if you 
came back with me to Port Mahon as a volunteer; and 
once under King George's colors, there would be pressure 
enough from all of us Hopes upon Burnside to gar him get 
you a commission, unless you win one for yourself. Then 
you could gang hame when the time was served, a credit 
and an honor to all!" 

“ I had rather win my way than be beholden to Burn- 
side,'" said Arthur, his face lighting at the proposal. 

“ Hout, man! That will be as the chances of war may 
turn out. As to your kit, we'll see to that! Never fear. 
Your mother will make it up." 

“ Thanks, Archie, with all my heart, but I am not so 
destitute," and he mentioned Yusuf's legacy, which the 
major held that he ;yas perfectly justified in appropriating; 
and in answer to 1 'next question, assured him that he 
would be able to retlaih Fareek as his servant. 

This was enough for Arthur, who knew that the relief to 
his mother's mind of his safety and acceptance as a subject 
would outweigh any disappointment at not seeing his face, 
when he would only be an unforgiven exile, liable to be in- 
formed against by any malicious neighbor. 

He borrowed materials and had written a long letter to 
her before the “ Calypso " put in at Algiers. The little 


A MODEKK TELEMACHUa 


149 


swift tartane had forestalled her: and every one was on the 
watch, when Estelle, who had been treated like a little 
princess on board, was brought in the long-boat with all 
her party to the quay. Though it was at daybreak, not 
only the European inhabitants, but Turks, Arabs, Moors, 
and Jews thronged the wharf in welcome; and there were 
jubilant cries as all the five captives coidd be seen seated in 
the boat in the light of the rising sun. 

• M. Dessault, with Ulysse in his hand, stood foremost on 
the quay, and the two children were instantly in each 
other^s embrace. Their uncle had to be helped out. He 
was more bewildered than gratified by the welcome. He 
required to be assured that the multitudes assembled meant 
him no harm, and would not move without Lanty; and 
though he bowed low in return to M. Dessault^s greeting, 
it was like an automaton, and with no recognition. 

Estelle, between her brother and her friend, and followed 
by all the rest, was conducted by the French consul to the 
chapel, arranged in one of the Moorish rooms. There stood 
beside the altar his two chaplains, and at once mass was 
commenced, while all threw themselves on their knees in 
thankfulness; and at the well-known sound a ray of intel- 
ligence and joy began to brighten even poor Phelim^s feat- 
ures. 

Arthur, in overflowing joy, could not but kneel with the 
others; and when the service concluded with the Te Deum^s 
lofty praise, his tears dropped for joy and gratitude that 
the captivity was over, the children safe, and himself no 
longer an outcast and exile. 

He had, however, to take leave of the children sooner 
than he wished, for the Calypso tad to sail the next 
day. 

Ulysse wept bitterly, clung to him, and persisted that he 
was their secretary, and must go with them. Estelle, too, 
had tears in her eyes; but she said, half in earnest, “ You 
know. Mentor vanished when Telemaque came home! 
Some day, monsieur, you will come to see us at Paris, and 
we shall know how to show our gratitude!’^ 

Both Lanty and Maitre Hebert promised to write to M. . 
Arture; and in due time he received not only their letters 
but fervent acknowledgments from the Comte de Bourke, 
who knew that to him was owing the life and liberty of the 
children. 


150 


A MODEKN TELEMACHUS. 


' * ''' further heard that the poor abbe 



soon after reaching home. His 


faithful foster-brother was deeply distressed, though the 
family had rewarded the fidelity of the servants by promot- 
ing H 6 bert to be intendant of the Proven9al estates, while 
Lanty was wedded to Yictorine, with a dot that enabled 
them to start a flourishing ijerruquier^s shop, and make a 
home for his mother when little Jacques outgrew her care. 

Estelle was in due time married to a French nobleman, 
and in after years “ General Sir Arthur Hope took his 
son and daughter to pay her a long visit in her Proven9al 
chateau, and to converse on the strange adventures that 
seemed like a dream. He found her a noble lady, well ful- 
filling the promise of her heroic girlhood, and still lament- 
ing the impossibility of sending any mission to open the eyes 
of the half-converted Selim. 


THE EHD. 


ADVERTISEMEl^TS. 


THE BEST 



EVER INVENTED. 


No Lady, Married or Sin« 
gle. Rich, or Poor, Houses 
keeping or Boarding, will 
be without it after testing 
its utility. 


Sold by all first-class 
Grocers, but beware of 
worthless imitations. 


GLUTEN SUPPOSITORIES 

cure: COrVSTIRATION Al^O P11 .es. 

so Cents by Mail. Circulars Free. 

HEALTH FOOD CO., 

Itli ATenue aind lOtli St., TV. IT. 


CAltDI 

CANDY 


Send $1, S2, $3 or $5 for a sample retail box by 
Express, of 

THE BEST CANDIES IN AMERICA, 

put up in elegant boxes, and strictly pure. Suit- 
able for presents. Express charges light. Refer 
to all Chicago. Try it once. 

If preferred, fine candy at 25c., 40c., and OOc. 
per pound; the best in the land for the 
money. Address 

C. F. OU.^ rilER, 

Confectioner, 

CHICAGO. 


WHAT IS SAPOLiO? “Hill 

equal for all cleaning purposes except the laundr}’’. To use it is to value it. 

What will Sapolio do? W’^hy, it will clean paint, make oil-cloths bright, and 
give the floors, tables and shelves a new appearance. 

It will take the grease off the dishes and off the pots and pans. 

You can scour the knives and forks with it, and make the tin things shine 
brightly. The wash-basin, the bath-tub. even the greasy kitchen sink, will 
be as clean as a new pin if you use SAPOLIO. One cake will prove a» 
wo say. Be a clever little housekeeper and try it. 

BEWARE OF IMITATIONS. 


NEW TABERNACLE SERMONS 

BY 

\ii T. Dewitt talmjige, d.d. 

Handsomely Boimd in Clotb. 12mo. Price $1.00. 


The latest of Dr. Talmage’s sermons have not yet been pre- 
sented in book form. They have appeared weekly in The New 
York Fireside Companion, and are now 

Pnblislied for the First Time in Booh Form, 

THE PRICE OF WHICH IS WITHIN THE REACH OP ALL,. 

Eacii Mm will Goataii TliirtF taoiis, 


PRINTED IN 

CLEAR, BOLD, HANDSOME TYPE, 

AND WILL MAKE 

AN ELEGANT AND ACCEPTABLE HOLIDAY GIFT. 

The above will be sent postpaid on receipt of price, $1.00. 


Address 

GEOEGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

P.O.Box 3751. 17 to 37 Vandewater Street, New York. 


MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS, 



The following works are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any 
address, postage free, on receipt of the price, by the publisher. Those ordering by 
mail will please order by numbers. 


Newsdealers ivishing Catalogues of THE SEASIDE LIBRARY, Pocket Edition, 
bearing their imprint, will he supplied on sending their names, addresses, and 
number required. Address 

GEORGE MUNKO, Miiui‘o’8 Piiblishiug House, 

(P. O. Box 3751.) 17 to ‘.i7 Vandewater Street, New York. 


LIST OF AUTHORS. 


Works by the author of “ Addie’s 
Husband.” 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or, Through 


Clouds to Sunshine 10 

504 My Poor Wife 10 

Works by the author of ‘‘A Fatal 
Dower.” 

346 A Fatal Dower 10 

372 Phyllis’ Probation 10 

461 His Wedded Wife 30 

829 The Actor’s Ward 20 


Works by the author of ” A Great 
Mistake.” 

244 A Great Mistake ^ 

.588 Cherry 10 

Works by the author of “A 
Woman’s Eove-fetory.” 

.322 A Woman’s Love-Story 10 

677 Griselda “0 

Mrs. Alexander’s Works. 

5 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

17 The Wooing O’t 20 

62 The Executor 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate 10 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? 10 

236 Which Shall it Be? 20 

339 Mrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid. . . 10 

490 A Second Life ^ 

664 At Bay ^ 

794 Beaton’s Bargain ^ 


797 Look Before You Leap 20 

805 The Freres. 1st half 20 

805 The Freres. 2d half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe 20 

814 The Heritage of liangdale 20 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

Alison’s Works. 

194 “So Near, and Yet So Far 1”. .. 10 

278 For Life and Love 10 

481 The House That Jack Built.... 10 

F. Anstey’s Works. 

59 Vice Vers& 20 

225 The Giant’s Robe 20 

503 The Tinted Venus. A Farcical 

Romance 10 

819 A Fallen Idol 20 

R. M. Ballantyne’s Works. 

89 The Red Eric 10 

95 The Fire Brigade 10 

96 Erling the Bold 10 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 

Trader 20 

S. Baring-Gould’s Works. 

787 Court Royal 20 

878 Little Tu’penny 10 

Basil’s Works, 

344 “ The Wearing of the Green ’’ . . 20 

547 A Coquette’s Conquest 20 

5^ A Drawn Game 30 


a 


THE SEASIDE LIBKARA. 


Anne Beale’s Works. 

188 Idonea 20 

199 The Fisher Village 10 

Walter Besaut’s Works. 

97 All in a Garden Fair 20 

137 Uncle Jack 10 

140 A Glorious Fortune 10 

14G Love Finds the Way, and Other 

Stoides. By Besant and Rice 10 

230 Dorothy Forster. .1 20 

In Luck at Last 10 

541 Uncle Jack 10 

661 “ Self or Bearer ” 10 

^2 Children of Gibeon 20 

M. Betham-Ed wards’s WoikL, 

273 Love and Mirage; or. The Wait- 
ing on an Island 10 

579 The Flower of Doom, and Other 

Stories 10 

594 Doctor Jacob. 20 

William Black’s Works. 

1 Yolande..- 20 

18 Shandon Bells 20 

21 Sunrise : A Story of These 

Times 20 

23 A Princess of Thule 20 

39 In Silk Attire 20 

44 Macleod of Dare 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a 

Phaeton 20 

70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance 10 

78 Madcap Violet 20 

81 A Daughter of Heth 20 

124 Three Feathers 20 

125 The Monai^ch of Mincing Lane. 20 

126 Kilmeny 20 

138 Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 20 


265 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 

Affairs and Other Adventures 20 


472 The Wise Women of Inverness. 10 
627 White Heather 20 

It. D. Blackiiiore’s Works. 

67 Lorna Doone. 1st half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. 2d half 20 

427 The Remarkable History of Sir 

Thomas Upmore, Bart., M. P. 20 

615 Mary Anerley 20 

625 Erema; or, My Father’s Sin... 20 

629 Cripps, the Carrier 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. First half... 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. Second half. 20 

631 Christowell. A Dartmoor Tale 20 

6:12 rlara Vaughan — 20 

6;i3 The IMaid of Sker. First half.. ^ 
63:3 The Maid of Sker. Second half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. First half 20 

636 Alice Lorraine. Second half.. ^ 

Miss M. E. Bradilon’s Works. 

36 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

.56 Phantom Fortune 20 

74 Aurora Floyd ^ 

110 Under the Red Flag 10 


153 The Golden Calf 20 

204 Vixen 20 

211 The Octoroon 10 

234 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery.. 20 

263 An Ishmaelite 20 

315 The Mistletoe Bough. Edited 

by Miss Braddon 20 

434 Wyllard’s Weird 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part 1 20 

478 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. Part II 20 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

489 Rupert God win 20 

495 Mount Royal 20 

496 Only a ’Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

497 The Lady’s Mile 20 

498 Only a Clod 20 

499 The Cloven Foot 20 

511 A Strange World 20 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

524 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

529 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

542 Fenton’s Quest 20 

.544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 

Darnel 10 

548 The Fatal Blarriage, and The 

Shadow in the Corner 10 

549 Dudley Carleou ; or. The Broth- 

er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey 10 

5.52 Hostages to Fortune 20 

553 Birds of Prey 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (Se- 

quel to “ Birds of Prey ”) *0 

557 To the Bitter End 20 

559 Taken at the Flood 20 

560 Asphodel 20 

.561 Just as I am; or, A Living Lie 20 

567 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

570 John Marchmont's Legacj". ... 20 
618 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 

' mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

840 One Thing Needful ; or. The Pen- 
alty of Fate 20 

881 Mohawks 20 

’Works by Charlotte M. Braeine, 
A.iitbor of “Bora Thorue.” 

19 Her Mother’s Sin 10 

51 Dora Thorne 20 

54 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

68 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

69 Madolin’s Lover 20 

73 Redeemed by Love 20 

76 AVife in Name Only... 20 

79 Wedded and Parted... 10 

92 Lord Lynne’s Choice 10 

148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. . 10 

190 Romance of a Black Veil 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? 10 

237 Ropented at Leisure 20 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter ”. . 10 


POCKET EDITION. 


iii 


Charlotte M» Brnenie’s Works 

(continued). 


250 Sunshine and Roses; or, Di- 
ana’s Discipline 10 

254 The Wife’s Secret, and Fair 

but False 10 

283 The Sin of a Lifetime 10 

287 At War With Herself 10 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight 10 

201 Love’s Warfare 10 

202 A Golden Heart 10 

203 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

294 Hilda 10 

295 A Woman’s War 10 

290 A Rose in Thorns 10 

297 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hilary’s 

Folly 10 

299 The Fatal Lilies, and A Bride 

from the Sea 10 

300 A Gilded Sin, and A Bridge of 

Love 10 

303 Ingledew House, and More Bit- 

ter than Death 10 

304 In Cupid’s Net 10 

305 A Dead Heart, and Lady Gwen- 

doline’s Dream 10 

306 A Golden Dawn, and Love for 

a Day 10 

307 Two Kisses, and Like no Other 

Love 10 

308 Beyond Pardon 20 

411 A Bitter Atonement 20 

433 My Sister Kate 10 

459 A Woman’s Temptation 20 

460 Under a Shadow 20 

465 The Earl’s Atonement 20 

466 Between Two Loves 20 

467 A Struggle for a Ring 20 

469 Ladj’ Damer’s Secret 20 

470 Evelyn’s Folly 20 

471 Thrown on the World 20 

476 Between Two Sins 10 

516 Put Asunder ; or. Lady Castle- 

maine’s Divorce 20 

576 Her Martyrdom 20 

626 A Fair Mystery 20 

741 The Heiress of Hilldrop; or. 
The Romance of a Young 

Girl 20 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 
gle for Love 20 

792 Set in Diamonds 20 

821 ITie World Between Them 20 

853 A True Maardalen 20 

854 A Woman’s Error 20 


Charlotte Bronte’s Works. 

15 Jane Eyre 20 

57 Shirley 20 

Rhoda Broughton’s Works. 

86 Belinda 20 

101 Second Thoughts 20 

227 Nancy 20 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains 10 

758 “ Good-bye, Sweetheart!” 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too AVeU 20 

767 Joan 80 


768 Red as a Rose is She .20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower 20 

862 Betty’s Visions 10 

Mary E. Bryan’s Works. 

731 The Bayou Bride 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. 1st half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. 2d half 20 

Robert Buchanan’s Works. 

145 ” Storm-Beaten God and The 

Man 20 

154 Annan AVater 20 

181 The New Abelard 10 

398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan 10 

646 The Master of the Mine 20 

Captain Fred Burnaby’s Works. 

375 A Ride to Khiva 20 

384 On Horseback Through Asia 
Minor 20 

E. Fairfax Byrrne’s Works. 

521 Entangled 20 

538 A Fair Country Maid 20 

Hall Caine’s Works. 

445 The Shadow of a Crime 20 

520 She’s All the AVorld to Me 10 

Rosa Nonchette Carey’s Works. 

215 Not Like Other Girls 20 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial 20 

608 For Lilias 20 

Lewis Carroll’s Works. 

462 Alice’s Adventures in AVonder- 
land. Illustrated by John 

Tenniel 20 

789 Through the Looking-Glass, 
and What Alice Found There, 


Illustrated by John Tenniel. . 20 
Mrs. II. Lovett Cameron’s Works. 


595 A North Country Maid 20 

796 In a Grass Country 20 

Wilkie Collins’s Works. 

52 The New Magdalen 10 

102 The Moonstone 20 

167 Heart and Science 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

175 Love’s Random Shot, and Other 

Stories 10 

233 ” I Say No;” or. The Love-Let- 
ter Answered 20 

508 The Girl at the Gate 10 

591 The Queen of Hearts 20 

613 The Ghost’s Touch, and Percy 

and the Prophet 10 

623 My Lady’s Money 10 

701 The AVoman in AVhite. 1st half 20 

701 The Woman in White. 2d half 20 

702 Man and Wife. 1st half 20 

702 Man and Wife. 2d half 20 

764 The Evil Genius SO 


iv 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


Mabel Collins’s Works. 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter 20 

828 The Prettiest Woman in Wareaw 20 


Hugh Conway’s Works. 


240 Called Back 10 

251 The Daughter of the Stars, and 
Other Tales 10 

301 Dark Days 10 

302 The Blatchford Bequest 10 

502 Carriston’s Gift 10 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories 10 

543 A Faniil}’^ Affair 20 

601 Slings and Arrows, and Other 

Stories 10 

711 A Cardinal Sin 20 

804 Living or Dead 20 

830 Bound by a Spell 20 


J. Fenimore Cooper’s Works. 


60 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

03 The Spy 20 

309 The Pathfinder 20 

310 The Prairie 20 

318 The Pioneers ; or. The Sources 

of the Susquehanna 20 

349 The 'I'wo Admirals 20 

359 The Water-Witch 20 

361 The Red Rover 20 

373 Wing and Wing 20 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Cliase 20 

379 Home as Found. (Sequel to 

“ Homeward Bound”) 20 

380 Wyandotte; or. The Hutted 

Knoll 20 

385 The Headsman; or, The Ab- 

baye des Vignerons 20 

394 The Bravo 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln; or. The Leag- 
uer of Boston 20 

400 The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish. . . 20 

413 Afloat and Ashore 20 

414 Jliles Wallingford. (Sequel to 

Afloat and Ashore ”) 20 

415 The Ways of the Hour 20 

416 .Tack Tier; or. The Florida Reef 20 

419 TheChainbearer; or,The Little- 

page Manuscripts 20 

420 Satanstoe; or. The Littlepage 

Manuscripts 20 

421 The Redskins; or, Indian and 

Injin. Being the conclusion 
of the Littlepage Manuscripts 20 

422 Precaution 20 

423 The Sea Lions; or. The Lost 

Sealers 20 

424 Mercedes of Castile; or, The 

Voyage to Cathay 20 

425 The Oak-Openings ; or. The Bee- 

Hunter 20 

431 The Monikins 20 

Georgiana M. Craik’s Works. 

450 Godfrey Helstone 20 

6^ Mrs. Hollyer 20 


B. M. Crokei^’s Works, 

207 Pretty Miss Neville 20 

260 Proper Pride 10 

412 Some One Else 20 

May Croniinelin’s Works. 

4.52 In the West Countrie 20 

619 Joy; or. The Light of Cold- 

Home Ford 20 

647 Goblin Gold 10 

Alphonse Daudet’s Woi*ks. 

534 Jack 20 

574 The Nabob: A Story of Parisian 

Life and Manners 20 

Charles Dickens’s Works. 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. 1 20 

22 David Copperfield. Vol. II 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. Vol. II 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleb}'. First half. 20 
37 Nicholas Nickleby. Second half 20 

41 Oliver Twist 20 

77 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

84 Hard Times 10 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 1st half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. 2d half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. Second half .... . 20 
106 Bleak House. First half 20 

106 Bleak House. Second half.... 

107 Dombey and Son. 1st half ik) 

107 Dornbe}’^ and Son. 2d half 20 

108 The Cricket on the Hearth, and 

Doctor Marigold 10 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (1st half). 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. (2d half).. 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

152 The Uncommercial Traveler. . . 20 

168 No Thoroughfare. By Dicken.s 

and Collins 10 

169 The Haunted Man 10 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 

Chuzzlewit. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. Second iialf 20 

439 Great Expectations 20 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

447 American Notes 20 

448 Pictures Fi om Italy, and The 

Mud fog Papers, &c 20 

454 The Mystery of Edwin Drood.. 20 
456 Sketches by Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People . 20 

676 A Child’s Histoiy of England . 20 

J8arah Doudiiey’s Woi*ks. 

3.38 The Family Difficulty lu 

679 Where Two AVays Meet 10 

F. Dll Boisgobey’s Works, 

82 Sealed Lips 20 

104 The Coral Pin. 1st half ^ 

104 The Ctoral Pin. 2d half. . 20 

I ^64 PiOdouche, a French Detective. 10 


POCKET EDITION. 


V 


F. Du Boisffobey’s Works 

(continued). 

328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. 

First half 

328 Babiole, the Prett}'^ Milliner. 

Second half 

453 The Lottery Ticket 

475 The Prima Donna’s Husband.. 

522 Zig-Zag, the Clown ; or, The 

Steel Gauntlets 

523 The Consequences of a Duel. A 

Parisian Romance 

648 The Angel of the Bells 

C97 The Pretty Jailer. 1st half — 

697 The Prett}’^ Jailer. 2d half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 1st 

half 

699 The Sculptor’s Daughter. 2d 

half 

782 Tlie Closed Door. 1st half 

782 The Closed Door. 2d half 

&51 The C»y of Blood. 1st half 

851 The Cry of Blood. 2d half 

* 

“The Duchess’s” Works. 

2 Molly Bawn 

6 Portia 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian 

16 Phyllis 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey 

29 Beauty’s Daughters — 

30 Faith and Unfaith 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 

Eric Dering 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. . . 

123 Sw'eet is True Love 

129 Rossmoyne 

134 The Witching Hour, and Other 

Stories 

135 “That Last Rehearsal,’’ and 

Other Stories 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites.... 
171 Fortune’s Wheel, and Other 

Stories 

284 Doris 

812 A Week’s Amusement; or, A 

Week in Killarney 

342 The Baby, and One New Year’s 

Eve 

390 Mildred Trevanion 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 

Stories 

486 Dick’s Sweetheart 

494 A Maiden All Forlorn, and Bar- 
bara • 

517 A Passive Crime, and Other 

Stories - • • • 

511 “ As It Fell Upon a Day.” 

733 TiOd}^ Branksmere 

771 A Mental Struggle.. 

785 The Haunted Chamber 

862 Ugly Barrington 

6:.'> Lady Valworth’s Diamonds. . . . 

Alexander Dumas’s Woi'ks. 

,55 The Three Guardsmen 

75 Tvyenty Years After 


259 The Bride of Monte-Cristo. A 
Sequel to “ The Count of 

Monte-Cristo ” 10 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part 1 20 

262 The Count of Monte-Cristo. 

Part II 20 

717 Beau Taucrede; or. The Mar- 
riage Verdict 20 

Maria Edgeworth’s Works. 

708 Ormond 20 

788 The Absentee. An Irish Story. 20 

Mrs. Annie Edwards’s Works. 

644 A Girton Girl 20 

834 A Ballroom Repentance 20 

8^ Vivian the Beauty 20 

836 A Point of Honor 20 

837 A Vagabond Heroine 10 

838 Ought We to Visit Her? 20 

839 Leah; A Woman of Fashion... 20 

841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 10 

842 A Blue-Stocking 10 

843 Archie Lovell 20 

844 Susan Fielding 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or. The Mor- 

als of May Fair 20 

846 Steven I.,awrence. First half. 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. Second half 20 
850 A Playwright’s Daughter 10 

George Eliot’s Works. 

3 The Mill on the Floss 20 

31 Middlemarch. 1st half 20 

31 Middlemarch. 2d half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 1st half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. 2d half. ...... 20 

36 Adam Bede 20 

42 Romola 20 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical 20 

707 Silas Maruer: The Weaver of 

Ravel oe 10 

728 Janet’s Repentance 10 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such 10 

B. li. Farjeon’s Works. 

179 Little Make-Believe 10 

573 Love's Harvest 2 ' 

607 Self -Doomed 10 

616 The Sacred Nugget 20 

657 Christinas Angel 10 

G. Manville Fenii’s W’’orks, 

193 The Rosery Folk 10 

558 Poverty Corner 20 

587 The Parson o’ Dumford 20 

009 The Dark House 10 

Octave Feuillet’s Works. 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young 

Man 10 

386 Led Astray; or, “La Petite 

Comtesse ” 10 

Mrs. Forrester’s Works. 

80 June 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety.. — 10 


20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

10 

20 

10 

10 

10 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 


vi 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY, 


Mrs. Forrester’s Works 

(continued). 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 

Other Tales 

715 I Have Lived and Loved 

721 Dolores 

724 ]\Iy Lord and My Lady 

726 My Hero 

727 Fair Women 

729 Mignon 

732 From Olympus to Hades 

734 Viva 

736 Roy and Viola 

740 Rhoua 

744 Diana Carew; or, For a Wom- 
an’s Sake 

883 Once Again 

Jessie Fothergili’s Works. 

314 Peril 

572 Healey 

R. £. Francillon’s Works* 

135 A Great Heiress: A Fortune 

in Seven Checks 

319 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 

Fables 

360 Ropes of Sand •. 

656 The Golden Flood. By R. E. 
Fraucillou and Wm. Senior.. 

Emile Gaboriau’s Works. 

7 File No. 113 

12 Other People’s Money 

20 Within an Inch of His Life 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol I 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. Vol. II 

33 The Clique of Gold 

38 The Widow Lei’ouge 

43 The Mystery of Orcival 

144 Promises of Marriage 

Charles Gibbon’s Works. 

64 A Maiden Fair 

317 By Mead and Stream 

James Grant’s Works. 

566 The Royal Highlanders ; or, 
The Black Watch in Egypt. . . 
781 The Secret Dispatch 

Miss Grant’s Works. 

222 The Sun-Maid 

555 Cara Roma 

Arthur Grilliths’s Works. 

614 No. 99 

680 Fast and Loose 

H. Rider Haggard’s Works. 

432 The Witch’s Head 

753 King Solomon’s Mines- 

Thomas Hardy’s Works. 

139 The Romantic Adventures of 

a Milkmaid 

530 A Pair of Blue Eyes 

690 Far From the iMadding Crowd. 
791 The Mayor of Casterbridge 


John U, Harwood’s Works. 


143 One False, Both Fair 20 

358 Within the Clasp ^ 

Mary Cecil Hay’s Works. 

65 Back to the Old Home 10 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money 30 

196 Hidden Perils 10 

197 For Her Dear Sake 20 

224 The Arundel Motto 20 

281 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

290 Nora’s Love Test 20 

408 Lester’s Secret 20 

678 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished 20 

849 A Wicked Girl 20 

Mrs. Cashel-Hoey’s Works. 

313 The Lover’s Creed 20 

802 A Stern Chase 20 

Tighe Hopkins’s 'i^orks. 

509 Nell Hafifenden 20 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty 20 

Works by the Author of “Judith 
Wynne.” 

332 Judith Wynne 20 

506 Lady Lovelace 20 

William H. G. Kingston’s Works. 

117 A Tale of the Shore and Ocean. 20 

133 Peter tlve Whaler 10 

761 Will Weatherhelm 20 

763 The Midshipman, Marmaduke 
Merry 20 

Vernon lioe’s Works. 

399 Miss Brown 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 
Idyl. B 3 ' Vernon Lee. The 
Prince of the 100 Soups. Edit- 
ed by Vernon Lee 20 

Charle.s Lever’s Works. 

191 Harry Lorrequer 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. First half 20 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dra- 
goon. Second half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” First 

half 20 

243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” Sec- 
ond half 20 

Mary Linskill’s Works. 

473 A Lost Son 20 

620 Between the Heather and the 

Northern Sea 20 

Mrs. E. Lynn Linton’s Works. 

122 lone Stewart 20 

817 Stabbed in the Dark lO 

Samuel Lover’s Works. 

663 Handy Andy 20 

664 Rory O’More ^ 


10 

20 

20 

SO 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 


POCKET EDITION 


vii 


Bir E. Bitlwer Eytton’s Works. 


40 The Last Days of Pompeii 20 

83 A Strange Story 20 

90 Ernest Maltravers 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. First 

half 20 

130 The Last of the Barons. Sec- 
ond half 20 

162 Eugene Aram 20 

164 Leila ; or, The Siege of Grenada 10 
650 Alice ; or, The Mysteries. (A Se- 
quel to “ Ernest Maltravers ”) 20 
720 Paul Clifford 20 

George Macdonald’s Works. 

282 Donal Grant 20 

325 The Portent 10 

326 Phantasies. A Faerie Romance 

for Men and Women 10 

722 What’s Mine’s Mine 20 

£. Marlitt’s Works. 

652 The Lady with the Rubies 20 

- 858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret 20 

Florence Marryat’s Works. 

159 A Moment of Madness, and 

Other Stories 10 

183 Old Coutrairy, and Other 

Stories 10 

208 The Ghost of Charlotte Cray, 

and Other Stories 10 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses — 10 

444 The Heart of Jane Warner 20 

449 Peeress and Player 20 

689 The Heir Presumptive 20 

825 The Master Passion 20 

860 Her Lord and Master 20 

861 My Sister the Actress 20 

863 “ My Own Child.” 20 

864 ” No Intentions.” 20 

865 Written in Fire 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband... 20 

867 The Girls of Feversham 20 

868 Petronel 20 

869 The Poison of Asps 10 

870 Out of His Reckoning 10 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

873 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

877 Facing the Footlights 20 

Captain Marryat’s Works. 

88 The Privateersman 20 

272 The Little Savage 10 

Helen B. Mathers’s Works. 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

4.38 Found Out 10 

.5.35 Murder or Manslaughter? 10 

673 Story of a Sin 20 

713 “Cherry Ripe” 20 

795 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

798 The Fashion of this World 10 

799 My Lady Green Sleeves 20 


Justin McCarthy’s Works. 


121 Maid of Athens 20 

602 Camiola 20 

685 England Under Gladstone. 

1880—1885 30 

747 Our Sensation Novel. Edited 
by Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. . 10 
779 Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. . . 10 


Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller’s 
Works. 


267 Laurel Vane; or, The Girls’ 

Conspiracy SO 

268 Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The 

Miser’s Treasure 20 

269 I.,ancaster’s Choice 20 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 

Rodney’s Secret 20 

Jean Middlemas’s Works. 

155 Lady Muriel’s Secret 20 

539 Silvermead 20 

Alan Muir’s Works. 

172 “Golden Girls” 20 

346 Tumbledown Farm 10 

Miss Mulock’s Works. 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman 20 

245 Miss Tommy, and In a House- 

Boat 10 

808 King Arthur. Not a Love Story 20 

David Christie Murray’s Works. 

58 By the Gate of the Sea 10 

195 “ The Way of the World ” 20 

320 A Bit of Human Nature 10 

661 Rainbow Gold 20 

674 First Person Singular 20 

691 Valentine Strange 20 

695 Hearts: Queen, Knave, and 

Deuce 20 

698 A Life's Atonement 20 

737 Aunt Rachel 10 

826 Cynic Fortune 20 


Works by the author of “My 
Ducats and 31 y Daughtei. ’ 

376 The Crime of Christmas Day, 10 
596 My Ducats and My Daughter. .. 20 

W. E. Norris’s Works. 


184 ThirlbyHall 20 

277 A Man of His Word 10 

355 That Terrible Man 10 

500 Adrian Vidal 20 

824 Her Own Doing 10 

848 My Friend Jim 10 

871 A Bachelor’s Blunder 20 

Laurence Oliphant’s Works. 

47 Altiora Peto 20 

537 Piccadilly 10 


vlli 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. 


Mrs. Olipliant’s Works. 

45 A Little Pilgrim 10 

177 Salem Chapel 20 

806 The Minister’s Wife 30 

321 The Prodigals, and Their In- 
heritance 10 

337 Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 

the Borough of Fendie 20 

345 Madam 20 

351 The House on the Moor 20 

357 John 20 

.370 Lucy Crofton 10 

371 Margaret Maitland 20 

377 Magdalen Hepburn : A Story of 

the Scottish Reformation — 20 
402 Lilliesleaf * or, Passages in the 
Life of Mrs Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside 20 

410 Old Lady Mary 10 

527 The Days of My Life 20 

528 At His Gates 20 

568 The Perpetual Curate 20 

569 Harry Muir 20 

603 Agnes. 1st half 20 

603 Agnes. 2d half 20 

604 Innocent,., .1st half 20 

604 Innoce'i -. 2d half 20 

605 Ombra 20 

645 Oliver’s Bride : . . 10 

655 The Open Door,and The Portrait 10 

687 A Country Gentleman 20 

703 A House Divided Against Itself 20 
710 The Greatest Heiress in England 20 

827 Effie Ogilvie 20 

880 The Sou of His Father 20 

“ Ouida’s ” Works. 

4 Under Two. Flags 20 

9 Wanda, Countess von Szalras.. 20 

116 Moths 20 

128 Afternoon and Other Sketches. 10 

226 Friendship 20 

228 Princess* Napraxine 20 

238 Pascarel 20 

2.39 Signa 20 

4.33 A Rainy' June 10 

639 Othmar 20 

671 Don Gestialdo 10 

672 In lyiaremma. First half 20 

672 In MaremVha. Second half 20 

874 A House I’arty 10 

Jair Vis Payn’s Works. 

48 Thick* " ."’ban Water 20 

186 The cl Ward 20 

343 The Talk oj; Town 20 

577 In Peril and’'lf rivation 10 

589 The Luck of the Darrells 20 

823 The Heir of the Ages ^ 

Miss Jane Porter’s Works. 

660 The Scottish Chiefs. 1st half.. 90 
660 The Scottish Chiefs. 2d half., ^ 
696 Thaddeus of Warsaw 20 

Cecil Power’s Works. 

336 Philistia 20 

611 Babylon 20 


Mrs. Campbell Praed’s Works. 


428 Zero: A Story of Monte-Carlo. 10 

477 Afl&nities 10 

811 The Head Station 20 

Eleanor C. Price’s Works. 

173 The Foreigners 20 

331 Gerald 20 

Chai'les Reade’s Works. 

46 Very Hard Cash 20 

98 A Woman-Hater 20 

206 The Picture, and Jack of All 
Trades 10 


210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events 

213 A Terrible Temptation 

214 Put Yourself in His Place 

216 Foul Play 

231 Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy... 

232 Love and Money ; or, A Perilous 

Secret 

235 “It is Never Too Late to 
Mend.” A Matter-of-Fact Ro- 
mance 

Mrs. J. H. Riddell’s Works. 

71 A Struggle for Fame 

593 Berna Boyle 

“Rita’s” Works. 

252 A Sinless Secret 

446 Dame Durden 

598 “ Corinna.” A Study 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss 

F. W. Robinson’s Works. 

157 Milly’sHero 

217 The Man She Cared For 

261 A Fair Maid 

455 Lazarus in London 

590 The Courting of Mary Smith. . . 

W. Clark Russell’s Works. 

85 A Sea Queen 

109 Little Loo 

180 Round the Galley Fire 

209 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate.. 

223 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 

592 A Strange Voyage 

682 In the Middle Watch. Sea 

Stories 

743 Jack’s Courtship. 1st half 

743 Jack’s Courtship. 2d half 

Adeline Sergeant’s Works. 

2.57 Beyond Recall 

812 No Saint • 


Sir Walter Scott’s Works. 

28 Ivanhoe 

201 The Monastery 

202 The Abbot. (Sequel- -to “The 

Monastery ”) 

.353 The Black Dwarf, and A Le- 
gend of Montrose." 

362 The Bride of Lammermob^r, 

363 The Surgeon’s Daughter.'. 

364 Castle Dangerous 


to 

10 


g- ggg ggssgg ggggg gsss gg g O 


POCKET EDITION. 


ix 


Sir Walter Scott’s Works 


(continuedX 

391 The Heart of Mid-Lothian 20 

392 Peveril of the Peak 20 

893 The Pirate 20 

401 Waverley ^ 

417 The Fair Maid of Perth ; or, St. 

Valentine’s Day 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well 20 

463 Redganntlet. A Tale of the 

Eighteenth Century 20 

507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 
and Other Stories 10 

William Sime’s Works. 

429 Boulderstone ; or, New Men and 

Old Populations 10 

580 Tlie Red Route 20 

597 Haco the Dreamer 10 

649 Cradle and Spade 20 

Hawley Smart’s Works. 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 

Romance 20 

367 Tie and Trick 20 

.5.50 Struck Down 10 

847 Bad to Beat 10 

Frank £. Smedley’s Works. 

^ Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Private 

Pupil 20 

562 Lewis Arundel; or. The Rail- 
road of Life 20 

T. W. Speight’s Works. 

150 For Himself Alone 10 

653 A Barren Title 10 

Robert Louis SteTenson’s Works. 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 

Mr. Hyde 10 

704 Prince Otto 10 

832 Kidnapped 20 

8.55 The Dynamiter 20 

856 New Arabian Nights 20 

Julian Sturgis’s Works. 

405 My Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 10 

694 John Maidment 20 


Fugeue Sue’s Works. 

270 The Wandering Jew. Parti... 20 
270 The Wandering Jew. PartH.. 20 
^1 The Mysteries of Paris. Part I. 20 
S?71 The Mysteries of Paris. Part II. 20 

George Temple’s Works. 


599 I.ancelot Ward, M.P 10 

612 Britta 10 

William M. Thackeray’s Works. 

27 Vanity Fair 20 

165 The History of Henry Esmond. 20 

464 The Newcorties. Part 1 20 

464 The Newcomes. Part II 20 

670 The Ro.so and the Ring. Illus- 
trated;... 10 


Works by the Author of “The 
Two Miss Flemings.” 

637 What’s His Offence? 

780 Rare Pale Margaret 

784 The Two Miss Flemings 

831 Pomegranate Seed 

Annie Thomas’s Works. 

141 She Loved Him! 

142 Jenifer 

565 No Medium 

Antliony Trollope’s Works. 

32 The Land Leaguers 

93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy 

147 Rachel Ray 

200 An Old Man’s Love 

531 The Prime Minister. Ist half. . 

.531 The Prime Minister. 2d half... 

621 The Warden ’ 

622 Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. . . 

667 The Golden I.ionof Granpere.. 

700 Ralph the Heir. 1st half 

700 Ralph the Heir. 2d half 

775 The Three Clerks 

Velev’.s W^ri’ks. 

ur- 

298 Mitchelhurst Place j.. .. 

586 “ For Percival ” 

Jules Verne’s Works. 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 

Fifteen 

100 20,000 Leagues IJnder the Seas. 

368 The Southern Star; or, the Dia- 
mond Land 

395 The Archipelago on Fire 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part I 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 

Part II 

578 Mathias Sandorf. Illustrated. 
Part III 

659 The Waif of the “ Cynthia”... 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. ’ First half. 

751 Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Second half 

833 Ticket No. ” 9672.” First half. . 

L. B. Walforil’s Works, 

t S’ 

241 The Baby’s Grandmoth > . . . 

256 Mr, Smith: A Parte' . ,bife. 

258 Cousins ^ 

658 The History of a V, ...ek 

F. Warden’s AVorks. 

192 At the World’s Mercy 

248 The House on the Marsh 

286 Deldee; or. The Iron Hand.... 

482 A Vagrant Wife 

.556 A Prince of Darkness 

820 Doris's Fortune....,..., 10 


oSBo o 8S S S SS 88 8S 88880S88088 8 S80 8888 


X 


THE SEASroE LIBRARY. 


William Ware’s Works. 

709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Pal- 
myra. 1st half 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 
myra. 2d half 20 

760 Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third 
Century 20 

£. Werner’s Works. 

327 Raymond’s Atonement 20 

540 At a High Price 20 

fJ.'J. Whyte-iilelTille’s Works. 

409 Roy’s Wife 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 
the Bar 20 

John Strange Winter’s Works. 

492 Mignon ; or. Booties’ Baby. Il- 
lustrated 10 

600 Houp-La. Illustrated 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 

. Black Horse) Dragoons 10 

688 A Man of Honor. Illustrated.. 10 
746 Cavalry Life; or. Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out. . 20 


813 Army Society. Life in a Gar- 


rison Town 10 

818 Pluck 10 

876 Mignon’s Secret 10 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Works. 

8 East Lynne 20 

255 The Mystery 20 

277 The Surgeon’s Daughters 10 

608 The Unholy Wish 10 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 

Other Tales 10 

514 The Mystery of Jessy Page, and 

Other Tales 10 

610 The Story of Dorothy Grape, 
and Other Tales 10 

Charlotte M. Yonge’s Works. 

247 The Armourer’s Prentices 10 

275 The Three Brides 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or, Domi- 
neering ’ 10 

563 The Two Sides of the Shield 20 

640 Njjttie’s Father 20 

665 The Dove in the Eagle’s Nest. . 20 

666 My Young Alcides: A Faded 

Photograph 20 

739 The Caged Lion . . 20 

742 Love and Life 20 

783 Chantry House 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or, The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 

First half 20 

790 The Chaplet of Pearls ; or. The 
White and Hlack Ribaumont. 

Second half 20 

800 Hopes and Fea»rs; or, Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 

First half 20 

800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Second half 20 


Miscellaneous. 


53 The Story of Ida. Francesca. . 10 
61 Charlotte Temple. Mrs. Row- 

son 10 

99 Barbara’s History. Amelia B. 

Edwards 20 

103 Rose Fleming. Dora Russell.. 10 
105 A Noble Wife. John Saunders 20 

111 The Little School-master Mark. 

J. H. Shorthouse 10 

112 The Waters of Marah. John 

Hill 20 


113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. M. G. 

Wightwick 10 

114 Some of Our Girls. Mrs. C. J. 

Eiloart 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

120 Tom Brown’s School Days at 

Rugby. Thomas Hughes 20 

127 Adrian Bright. Mrs. Caddy 20 

149 The Captain’s Daughter. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

151 The Ducie Diamonds. C. Blath- 

erwick 10 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

158 The Starling. Norman Mac- 
leod, D.D 10 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. Sarah Tytler 10 

161 The Lady of Lyons. Founded 

on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton 10 

163 Winifred Power. Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 


170 A Great Treason. Mary Hop- 

pus 30 

174 Under a Ban. Mrs. Lodge 20 

176 An April Day. Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 10 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

Queen Victoria 10 

182 The Millionaire 20 

185 Dita. Lady Margaret Majendie 10 
187 The Midnight Sun. Fredrika 

Bremer 10 

198 A Husband’s Story 10 

203 John Bull and His Island. Max 
O’Rell 10 


218 Agnes Sorel. G. P. R. James.. 20 

219 Lady Clare : or. The Master of 

the Forges. Georges Ohnet 10 
242 The Two Orphans. D’Ennery. 10 
253 The Amazon. Carl Vosmaer. . 10 
266 The Water-Babies. Rev. Chas. 

Kingsley 10 

274 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. Mrs. Sumner Hay- 
den 20 

285 The Gambler’s Wife ^ 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. A “ Brutal Sax- 
on ” 10 


POCKET EDITION. 


xi 


Miscelfaneous — Continued. 


311 Two Years Before the Mast. R. 

H. Dana, Jr 20 

323 A Willful Maid 20 

329 The Polish Jew. (Translated 

from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) Erckmann Chat- 
rian 10 

330 May Blossom ; or, Betv een Two 

Loves. Margaret Lee 20 

334 A Marriage of Convenience. 

Harriett Jay 10 

83.5 The White Witch 20 

340 Under Which King? Compton 

Reade 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or. The Little 

Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

Laura Jean Libbey 20 

347 As Avon Flows. Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

350 Diana of the Crossways. George 

Meredith 10 

3.52 At Any Cost. Edward Garrett. 10 
354 The Lottery of Life. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 
Ago. John Brougham 20 


355 Tbe Princess Dagomar of Po- 

land. Heinrich Felbermann. 10 

356 A Good Hater. Frederick Boyle 20 
365 George Cbristy ; or, The Fort- 
unes of a Minstrel. Tony 


Pastor 20 

306 The Mysterious Hunter; or. 
The Man of Death. Capt. L. 

C. Carleton 20 

369 Miss Bretherton. Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

374 The Dead Man’s Secret. Dr. 

Jupiter Paeon 20 

381 The Red Cardinal. Frances 

Elliot 10 

382 Three Sisters. Elsa D’Esterre- 

Keeling 10 

383 Introduced to Societ 3 \ Hamil- 

ton Aid 6 10 

387 The Secret of the Cliffs. Char- 
lotte French 20 

389 Ichabod. A Portrait. Bertha 

Thomas 10 

403 An English Squire. C. R. Cole- 
ridge 20 

406 The Merchant’s Clerk. Samuel 

Warren 10 

407 Tylney Hall. Thomas Hood. . . 20 
426 Venus’s Doves. Ida Ashworth 

Taylor 20 

4.30 A Bitter Reckoning. Author 

of “By Crooked Paths ’’ 10 

435 Klytia : A Story of Heidelberg 

Castle. George Taylor 20 

436 Stella. Fanny Lewald 20 

441 A Sea Change. Flora L. Shaw. 20 

442 Ranthorpe. George Henry 

Lewes 20 

443 The Bachelor of the Albany. . . 10 
457 The Russians at the Gates of 

Herat. Charles Marvin 10 


458 A Week of Passion ; or, The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 


ton the Younger. Edward 

Jenkins 20 

468 The Fortunes, Good and Bad, 
of a Sewing-Girl. Charlotte 

M. Stanley 10 

474 Serapis. An Historical Novel. 

George Ebers 20 


479 Louisa. Katharine S. Macquoid 20 
483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 


author of “A Golden Bar’’... 10 
485 Tinted Vapours. J. Maclaren 

Cobban 10 

491 Society in London. A Foreign 

Resident 10 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. Lucas 

Malet 20 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. F. Mabel 

Robinson 20 

504 Curly : An Actor’s Story. John 

Coleman 10 

505 The Society of London. Count 

Paul Vasili 10 

510 A Mad Love. Author of “ Lover 

and Lord ’’ 10 

.512 The "Waters of Hercules 20 

518 The Hidden Sin 20 

519 James Gordon’s Wife ^ 

526 Madame De Presnel. E. Fran- 
ces Poynter 20 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 

583 Hazel Kirke. Marie Wal.sh 20 

536 Dissolving Views. Mrs. Andrew 
Lang 10 

545 Vida’s Story. By the anther of 

“ Guilty "Without Crime ’’. . . 10 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime. A Novel . . 10 

571 Paul Crew's Story. Alice Co- 
ni j'ns Carr 10 

575 The Finger of Fate. Captain 

Mayne Reid 20 

581 The Betrothed. (I Promessi 

Sposi.) Allessandro Manzoni 20 

582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. Mrs. 

J. H. Needell 20 

583 Victory Deane. Cecil Griffith. . 20 

584 Mixed Motives 10 

599 Lancelot Ward, M.P. George 

Temple 10 

612 Mj’ Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “ Dr. Edith Romney ’’ 20 

624 Primus in Indis. M. J. Colqu- 

houn 10 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 

of “ My Lady’s Folly ” 20 

634 The Unforeseen. Alice O’Han- 
lon 20 

641 The Rabbi’s Spell. Stuart C. 

Cumberland 10 

643 The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey 
Crayon, Gent. Washington 

Irving 20 

654 “ Us.’’ An Old-fashioned Story. 

Mrs. Molesworth 10 

662 The Myster}" of Allan Grale. 

Isabella Fyvie Mayo 20 

668 Half-Way. An Anglo-French 
Romance 20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY. 


xii 


Miscellaneous— Continued. 

660 The Philosophy of Whist, 

William Pole 20 

675 Mrs. Dymond. Miss Thackeray 20 
681 A Singer’s Stor3^ May Laffan. 10 

683 The IBachelor Vicar of New- 

forth. Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe. 20 

684 Last Days at Apswich 10 

692 The Mikado, and Other Comic 

Operas, Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 
Sullivan 20 

705 The Woman I Loved, and the 

Woman Who Loved Me. Isa 
Blagden 10 

706 A Crimson Stain. Annie Brad- 

shaw 10 

712 For Maimie’s Sake. Grant 


iAlXcH <i\J 

718 Unfairly Won. Mrs, Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

Lord Byron 10 

728 Mauleverer’s Millions. T. We- 

myss Reid 20 

725 My Ten Yeai*s’ Imprisonment. 

Silvio Pellico 10 

f30 The Autobiography of Benja- 
min Franklin 10 

735 Until the Day Breaks. Emily 

Spender 20 

738 In the Golden Days. Edna 

Lyall 20 

748 Hurrish: A Study. By the 
Hon. Emily Lawless 20 


750 An Old Story of My Farming 


Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Story of My Fai-ming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 
Juliana Horatia Ewing 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 

ried. By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony 20 

755 Margery Daw 20 

756 The Strange Adventures of Cap- 

tain Dangerous. A Narrative 
in Plain English. Attempted 
by George Augustus Sala 20 


757 Love’s Martyr, Laurence Alma 

Tadema 10 

759 In Shallow Waters. Annie Ar- 

mitt 20 

766 No, XIII; or, The Story of the 
Lost Vestal. Emma Mar- 
shall 10 

770 The Castle of Otranto. Hor- 
ace Walpole 10 

773 The Mark of Cain. Andrew 

Lang 10 

774 The Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park 10 

776 P6re Goriot. Honore De Bal- 

zac 20 

777 The Voyages and Travels of 

of Sir John Mauudeville, Kt. . 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 

thor of “My Marriage ’’ 20 

786 EthefMildmay’s Follies, By au- 
thor of “Petite’s Romance’’, 20 
793 Vivian Grey. Bj' the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. First half. .... 20 
793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 
Beaconsfield. Second half. .. 20 
801 She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. Oli- 
ver Goldsmith 10 

803 Major Frank. A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D, Cecil Gibbs ^ 


809 Witness My Hand. By author 

of “ Lady Gwendolen’s Tryst ” 10 

810 The Secret of Her Life. Ed- 

ward Jenkins 20 

816 R^ues and Vagabonds. By 
George R. Sims, author of 

“ ’Ostler Joe ” 20 

822 A Passion Flower. A Novel 20 

852 Under Five Lakes. M. Quad.. 20 
879 The Touchstone of Peril. A 
Novel of Anglo-Indian Life, 
With Scenes During' the Mu- 
tiny. By R. E. Forrest 20 


{When ordering by mail please order by numbersJ] 

Persons who wish to purchase the foregoing works in complete and un- 
abridged form are cautioned to order and see that they get The Seaside 
Library, Pocket Edition, as works published in other libraries are fre- 
quently abridged and incomplete. Every number of The Seaside Library 
is unchanged and unabridged. 

Newsdealers washing catalogues of The Seaside Library, Pocket Edi- 
tion, bearing their imprint, will be supplied on sending their names, 
addresses, and number required. 

The works in The Seaside Library, Pocket Edition, are printed from 
larger type and on better paper than any other series published. 

The foregoing works ai’e for sale by all newsdealers, or will be .sent to 
any address, postage free, on receipt of price, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Muiiro’s Pulilisliin^ House, 

O. Box 3761, 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.-Pocket Edition. 


LATEST' ISSUES: 


NO, PKICK. 

669 Pole on Whist 20 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

844 Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or, The 

Morals of May Fair. By Mrs, 

Annie Edwards 20 

840 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs, 

Annie Edwards, 1st half... 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 10 

848 My Friend Jim. ByW.E. Norris 10 

849 A Wicked Girl. By Mary Cecil 

Hay 20 

850 A Playwright’s Daughter. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

851 The Cry of Blood. By F. Du 

Boisgobey, First half 20 

851 The Cry of Blood. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. Second half 20 

852 Under Five Lakes ; or, The 

Cruise of the “Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

853 A True Magdalen. By Char- 

lotte M Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 20 

854 A Woman’s Error. By Char- 

lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne.” 20 

855 The Dynamiter. Robert Louis 

Stevenson and Fanny Van de 
Grift Stevenson 20 

856 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 

ert Louis Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. Mary E, Bryan. 
First half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 

Red House. Mary E. Bryan. 
Second half 20 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

859 Ottilie; An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl. By Vernon Lee. The 
Prince of the 100 Soups. Ed- 
ited by Vernon Lee 20 

860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 

ence Marry at 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By “ The 

Duchess.” Betty’s Visions. 

By Rhoda Broughton 10 

863 “ My Own Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 


NO. PRICK. 

864 “ No Intentions.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

865 Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marrj at 20 

866 Miss Harrington’s Husband. By 

Florence Marr 3 -at 20 

867 The Girls of Feversham. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 


870 Out of His Reckoning. By 

Florence Marryat 10 

871 A Bachelor’s Blunder. By W. 

E. Norris 20 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 

ence Marryat 20 

874 A House Party. By “Ouida” 10 

875 Lady Val worth’s Diamonds. By 

“ The Duchess ” 20 

876 Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

Winter 10 

878 Little Tu’penny. By S. Baring- 

Gould 10 

879 The Touchstone of Peril. By 

R. E. Forrest 20 

880 The Son of His Father. By Mrs, 

Oliphant 20 

881 Mohawks. By Miss M, E. Brad- 

don 20 

882 Children of Gibeon. By Walter 

T) ACC) n t" 

883 Once Again. By Mrs. For- 

Foster • 20 

884 A Voyage to the Cape. By W. 

Clark 'Russell 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part I 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 
Part II 20 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Part HI 20 

886 Paston Carew, Millionaire and 

Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton, 20 

887 A Modern Telemachus. By 

Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

888 Treasure Island, Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

889 An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

890 The Mistletoe Bough. Christ- 

mas, 1886. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

891 VeraNevill; or. Poor Wisdom’s 

Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett 
Cameron 20 

892 That Winter Night; or, Love’s 

Victory. Robert Buchanan. 10 


The foregoing works, contained in The Skasidk Library, Pocket Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, on 
receipt of price. Farties ordering by mail ivill please order by numbers. Ad- 
dl*0SS 

GEORGE MUNRO, 


MUNllO’S PUBLISHING HOUSE, 


17 to 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y, 


P. O. Box 8751. 


J^UST ISSUED. 


JUBT ISSUED 


JULIET CORSON’S 

NEW FAMILY COOK BOOK. 

BY MISS JULIET CORSON, 

Author of “ Meals for the Million,” etc., etc. 
Superintendent of the New York School of Cookery. 


PRICE ; HAITPSOnELT BOUNI) IN CLOTH, $1.00. 

A C0MPREHE8SIYE COOK BOOK 

For Family Use in City and Country. 

CONTAINING 

PHACTICAL RECIPES AND FULL AND PLAIN DIREC- 
TIONS FOR COOKING ALL DISHES USED 
IN AMERICAN HOUSEHOLDS. 

The Best and Most Economical Methods of Cookingr Meats, Fish, 
Vegetables, Sauces, Salads, Puddings and Pies. 

How to Prepare Relishes and Savory Accessories, Picked-up Dishes, 
Soups, Seasoning, Stuffing and Stew’s. 

How to Make Good Bread, Biscuit, Omelets, Jellies, Jams, Pan- 
cakes, Fritters and Fillets. 


Miss Corson Is the best American writer on cooking. All of her recipes 
nave been carefully tested in the New York School of Cookery. If her direc- 
tions are carefully followed there will be no failures and no reason for com- 
plaint. Her directions are always plain, very complete, and easily followed. 

Juliet Corson’s New Family Cook Book 

Is sold by all newsdealers. It will be sent, postpaid, on receipt of prices 
handsomely bound in cloth, $1.00. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, 

Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 37 Vandewaler St., H. Y, 


THE NEW YORK FASHION BAZAR 

BOOK OF THE TOILET. 

PRICE 35 CEI^TS. 


THIS IS. A LITTLE BOOK 

WHICH 

WE CAN RECOMMEND TO EVERY LADY 

FOR THE 

PEESERVATION AND INCREASE OP HEALTH AND BEAUTY: 

IT CONTAINS FULL DIRECTIONS FOR ALL THE 

ARTS AND MYSTERIES OF PERSONAL DECORATION, 

AND FOR 

Increasing the Natural Graces of Form and Expression. 

ALL THE LITTLE AFFECTIONS OF THE 

S3s:iii, Hair, E37-es aiad. Boca.3r 

THAT DETRACT FROM APPEARANCE AND HAPPINESS 

Are Hade the Subjects of Precise and Ezcellent Recipes. 

Ladies Are Instnicted How to Reduce Their Weight 

Without Injury to Health and Without Producing 
Pallor and Weakness. 

NOTHING NECESSABY TO 

A COMPLETE TOILET BOOK OF RECIPES 

AND 

VALUABLE ADVICE AND INPOEMATION 
HAS BEEN OVERLOOKED IN THE COMPILATION OF THIS VOLUME. 

For sale by all Newsdealers, or sent to any address on receipt of the price, 
25 cents, postage prepaid, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3761. 17 to :?r Vandewater St., N. Y. 


^ Ouida^s ” Latest Novel Now Ready 
Larjse, Bold, Handsome Tyne, 


OTHMAR. 

By “OUIDA,” 

Seaside Libraiy, Pocket Edition, No. 638 

SPMICE 30 CEIKXS. 


For sale by all newsdealers, or sent to any address, postage prepaic^t 
Ml receipt of price, 20 cents. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Jffunro’s Pnblishingr House, 

P.O.Box 3751. IT to *Z7 Vandewater Street, N. Y. 


HOW EEABir— Beautifully Bound in Cloth— PRICE 60 OEHTR 


A NEW PEOPLE’S EDITION 

OF THAT MOST DEUGHTTHI. OF CHILDREN’S STORIES. 

Alice’s Adventmes in Wonderland. 

By LEWIS CARROLL, 

Author of ** Through the Looking-Glass, ** etc. 

With Forty-two Beautiful Illustrations by John TennieU 

The most delicions and taking nonsense for children ever written. A 
book to be read by all mothers to their little ones. It makes them danoe 
with delight. Everybody enjoys the fun of this charming writer for the 
nursery. 

THIS NEW PEOPLE’S EDITION, BOUND IN CLOTH, PRICE 60 CENTS 
IS PRINTED IN LARGE, HANDSOME,. READABLE TYPE, 
WITH ALL THE ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS 
OF THE EXPENSIVE ENGLISH EDITION. 


NIa.il on Receiip' of‘SO ^ents* 


Address GEORGE iUUNRO, lliinro’s Publishing Honae, 
% O* Bex 3T51 '•.T to tST Vondewater StreCA N^w 


MUNRO’S PUBLICATIONS. 


The Philosophy of Whist. 

AN ESSAY ON THE SCIENTIFIC AND INTELLECTUAL 
ASPECTS OF THE MODERN GAME. 

IN TWO PARTS. 

Part I.— THE PHILOSOPHY OF WHIST PLAY. 

Part H.— THE PHILOSOPHY OF WHIST PROBABILITIEa 

By WILLIAM POLE, 

Mus. Doo. OXON. 

Fellow of the Royal Societies of London and Edinburgh; 

One op the Examiners in the University op London; 

Knight op the Japanese Imperial Order op the Rising Sun. 

Complete in Seaside Library (Pocket Edition), No. 669. 
PRINTED IN LARGE, BOLD, HANDSOME TYPE. 

PltlCK 30 CEi^TS. 

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent to any address, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of the price, 20 cents. Address 

GEORGE M.UNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 


Munro’s Dialopes and Speakers. 


PRICE 10 CENTS EACH. 


These books embrace a series of Dialogues and Speeches, all new and 
original, and are just what is needed to give spice and merriment to Social 
Parties, Home Entertainments, Debating Societies, School Recitations, Ama- 
teur Theatricals, etc. They contain Irish, German, Negro, Yankee, and, in 
fact, all kinds of Dialogues and Speeches. The following are the titles of the 
books : 

No. 1» The Funny Fellow’s Dhilogiies. 

No. 3. The Cleiiieiice and Donkey Dialogues. 

No. 3. Mrs. Smith’s Hoarders’ Dialogues. 

No. 4. Schoolboys’ Comic Dialogues. 


No. 1. Vot I Know ’Bout Gruel Societies Speaker. 

No. IS. The John B. Go-oH' Comic Speaker. 

No. 3. My Boy Vilhelm’s Speaker. 

The above titles express, in a slight degree, the contents of the books, 
which are conceded to be the best series of mirth-provoking Speeches and 
Dialogues extant. Price 10 cents each. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. 0. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Va,r)dew 3 ,ter Street, New York. 


OLD SLEUTH LIBRARY. 

ISSVEU MONTULiY. 


A Series of tie Most Thrilling Detective Stories Ever Pnhlishei 


NO, PRICK 

1 Old Sleuth the Detective 10c 

2 The King of the Detectives 10c 

3 Old Sleuth’s Triumph. First half. 10c 

3 Old Sleuth’s Triumph. Second half. 10c 

4 Under a Million Disguises 10c 

6 Night Scenes in New York 10c 

6 Old Electricity, the Lightning Detective 10c 

7 The Shadow Detective. First half 10c 

7 The Sliadow Detective. Second half. 10c 

8 Red-Light Will, the River Detective 10c 

9 Iron Burgess, the Government Detective 10c 

10 The Brigands of New York 10c 

11 Tracked by a Ventriloquist 10c 

12 The Twin Detectives 10c 

13 The French Detective 10c 

14 Billy Wayne, the St, Louis Detective 10c 

15 The New York Detective 10c 

16 O’Neil McDarragh, the Irish Detective 10c 

17 Old Sleuth in Harness Again 10c 

18 The Lady Detective 10c 

19 The Yankee Detective 10c 

20 The Fastest Boy in New York..- 10c 

21 Black Raven, the Georgia Detective.... 10c 

22 Night-Hawk, the Mounted Detective 10c 

23 The Gypsy Detective 10c 

24 The Mysteries and Miseries of New York 10c 

25 Old Terrible 10c 

26 The Smugglers of New York Bay 10c 

27 Manfred, the Magic Trick Detective 10c 

28 Mura, the Western Lady Detective 10c 

29 Monsieur Armand ; or, The French Detective in New 

York 10c 

30 Lady Kate, the Dashing Female Detective. First half 10c 

30 Lady Kate, the Dashing Female Detective. Second half 10c 

31 Hamud, the Detective 10c 

32 The Giant Detective in France. First half 10c 

32 The Giant Detective in France. Second nal^ 10c 

33 The American Detective in Russia 10c 

34 The Dutch Detective 10c 


The Publisher will send any of the above works by mail, 
postage prepaid, on receipt of the price, 10 cents each. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

17 to 27 Vandewater St. and 45 to 53 Rose St., New York 


P, O. Box 8761. 


MUNRO^S PUBLICATIONS. 


LADY BRANKSMERE. 

By ‘‘THE DUCHESS." 

PRINTED IN LARGE, BOLD, HANDSOME TYPE. 
Complete in Seaside Library (Pocket Edition), No. 733. 

PRICE 20 CEI^TS 


For sale by all newsdealers, or sent to any address, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of the price, 20 cents, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

P. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vande water Street, New York. 


SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITIOR), NO. 745. 

FOR ANOTHER’S SIN; 

OR, 

A STRUGGLE FOR LOVE. 

By CBABLOTTE M. BBAEME, 

Author of “ Dora Thome.''"' 

PRINTED IN LARGE, BOLD, HANDSOME TYPE. 


PRICE 20 CEPVTS. 


For sale by all newsdealers, or sent to any address, postage prepaid, on 
receipt of the price, 20 cents, by the publisher. Address 

GEORGE MUNRO, Munro’s Publishing House, 

F. O. Box 3751. 17 to 27 Vandewater Street, New York. 


MUNRO’S PUBLICATIOW& 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY 

ORDINARY EDITION. 


CfSORGE MUMROt Munro’s Publishing: Houset 


The following works contained in The Seaside Library, Ordinary Edition, 
are for sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent to any address, postage free, 
»n receipt of the price, by the publisher. Parties ordering by mail will pleasa 
order by numbers. 


MRS, ALEXANDER’S WORKS. 

80 Her Dearest Foe 20 

86 The Wooing O’t 20 

46 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

870 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be? 20 

632 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

1231 The Freres 20 

1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

1391 Look Before You Leap 20 

1602 The Australian Aunt 10 

1595 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

1721 The Executor 20 

1934 IVIrs. Vereker’s Courier Maid 10 

WILLIAM BLACK’S WORKa 

18 A Princess of Thule 

28 A Daughter of Heth 10 

47 In Silk Attire 10 

48 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton. 10 

Eilmeny 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordina/ry Ed^icm. 


58 The Monarch of Mincing Lane 10 

79 Madcap Violet (small type) 10 

604 Madcap Violet (large type) 20 

242 The Three Feathers 10 

890 The Marriage of Moira Fergus, and The Maid of Killeena. 10 

417 Macleod of Dare 20 

451 Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

568 Green Pastures and Piccadilly l(f 

816 White Wings; A Yachting Romance 10 

826 Oliver Goldsmith 10 

950 Sunrise: A Story of These Times 20 

^025 The Pupil of Aurelius 10 

1032 That Beautiful Wretch 10 

1161 The Pour MacNiflols 10 

1264 Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P., in the Highlands IG 

1429 An Adventure in Thule. A Story for Young People 10 

1556 Shandon Bells 20 

1683 Yolande 20 

1893 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love Affairs and other Advent- 
ures 26 

MISS M. E. BRA.DDON’S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd 20 

69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Levels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

114 Darrell Markham 10 

140 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 20 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoroon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead-Sea Fruit 2^ 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

469 Rupert Godwin iO 


THE SEASIDE LIBBART.—Ordmary Edition. 


481 Vixen 20 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter : . . 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

625 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

639 A Strange World 20 

550 Fenton’s Quest 20 

562 John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

672 The Lady’s Mile .20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara ; or, Splendid Misery 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

734 Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II.. 20 

811 Dudley Carleon 10 

828 The Fatal Marriage 10 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

]154 The Mistletoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 26 

1469 Flower and Weed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

1638 A Hasty Marriage (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

1715 Phantom Fortune 20 

1736 Under the Red Flag 10 

1877 An Ishmaelite 20 

1915 The Mistletoe Bough. Christmas, 1884 (Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon) 20 

CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE’S WORKS. 

3 Jane Eyre (in small type) 10 

896 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 20 

162 Shirley 20 

1^11 The Professor , . . 10 


TRE SEASIDE LIBRxiRT. — Ordinary Edition. 


329 Wuthering Heights 10 

438 Villette 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall 20 

.(098 Agnes Grey 20 

LUCY RANDALL COMFORT’S WORKS. 

495 Claire’s Love-Life 10 

552 Love at Saratoga - 20 

672 Eve, The Factory Girl 20 

716 Black Bell 20 

854 Corisande 20 

907 Three Sewing Girls 20 

1019 His First Love 20 

1133 Nina; or, The Mystery of Love 20 

1192 Vendetta; or, The Southern Heiress 20 

1254 Wild and Wilful 20 

1533 Elfrida; or, A Young Girl’s Love-Story 20 

1709 Love and Jealousy (illustrated) 20 

1810 Married for Money (illustrated) 20 

1829 Only Mattie Garland 20 

1830 Lottie an J Victorine ; or, Working their Own Way 20 

1884 Jewel, the Heiress. A Girl’s Love Story 20 

1861 Love at Long Branch ; or, Inez Merivale’s Fortunes 20 

WILKIE COLLINS’ WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 20 

14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Man and Wife 20 

32 The Queen of Hearts 20 

38 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek 20 

76 The New Magdalen • 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies 10 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark lO 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue’s Life 10 


f' 


9 




\ 


\ s , 




THE 

New York Fashion Bazar. 

THE BEST AMERICAN HOME MAGAZINE. 

Price 35 Cents Per Copy : $3.00 Per Year. 


All yearly siib-scribers on our list on the first of December will be 
entitled to a beautiful chromo, entitled: 

“HAPPY AS A KING.” 

The New York Fashion Bazar is a magazine for ladies. It 
contains everything which a lady’s magazine ought to contain. 
The fashions in dress which it publishes are new and reliable. Par- 
ticular attention is devoted to fashions for children of all ages. Its 
plates and descriptions will assist every lady in the preparation of 
her wardrobe, both in making new dresses and remodeling old ones. 
The fashions are derived from the best houses and are always prac- 
tical as well as new and tasteful. 

Every lady reader of The New \dRK Fashion Bazar can make 
her own dresses with the aid of Munro’s Bazar Patterns. These are 
carefully cut to measure and pinned into the perfect semblance of the 
garment. They are useful in altering old as well as in making new 
clothing. 

The Bazar Embroidery Supplements form an important part of 
the magazine. Fancy work is carefully described and illustrated, 
and new patterns given in every number. 

All household matters are fully and interestingly treated. Home 
information, decoration, personal gossip, correspondence, and recipes 
for cooking have each a department. 

Among its regular contributors are Mary Cecil Hay, “ The Duch- 
e.ss,” author of “ Molly Bawn,” Lucy Bandall Comfort, Charlotte 
IVI. Braeme, author of “Dora Thorne,” Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller 
and ]\Iary E. Bryan. 

The stories publi.shed in The New York Fashion Bazar are the 
best that can be had. 

GEORGE MUNRO, Publisher, 

P. O Box 3751. 17 TO 27 Vandewater Street, N. Y. 


THE CELEBRATED 



aEAND, SQTJAEE AND TJPEIGHT PIANOS. 


FIRST PRIZE 

DIPLOMA. 

Centennjai Extiibi- 
tion, 1876; Moutreal, 

1881 and 1882. 

The enviable po- 
sition Sohmer & 

Co. hold among 
American Piano 
Manufacturers is 
solely due to the 
merits of their in- 
struments. 

ARE 

AND PREFE 

SOHMER & CO 



They are used 
in Conservato- 
ries, Schools and 
Seminaries, on ac- 
count ot their su- 
perior tone and 
unequaled dura- 
bility- 

The SOHMER 
Piano is a special 
favorite with the 
leading musicians 
and critics. 

AT PRESENT THE MOST POPULAR 

RRED BY THE LEADING ARTISTS. 

», ManufacO^’ers, No. 149 to 155 E» lAth Strcet> N« Y» 


THE 


“Short Line Limited” 


TO 


St. Paul and Minneapolis. 



THE 


“Shore Line Limited” 


TO 


Milwaukee and Waukesha. 


IT TRAVERSES ^THE MOST DESIRABLE PORTIONS OP 
ILLINOIS, IOWA, NEBRASKA, WISCONSIN, MINNESOTA, DAKOTA, 
WYOMING AND NORTHERN MICHIGAN. 

-THE • POPULAR • SHORT- LINEi. 


MINNEAPOLIS, 
SAN FRANCISCO, 


BETWEEN 

CHICAGO, MILWAUKEE, MADISON, ST. PAUL, 

OMAHA, COUNCIL BLUFFS, DENVER, 

PORTLAND, OREGON, 

AND ALL POINTS IN THE WEST AND NORTHWEST. 

PALACE SLEEPING CARS, PALATIAL DINING CARS 

AND SUPERB DAY COACHES ON THROUGH TRAINS. 

Close Connections in Union Depots with Branch and Connecting Lines. 

ALL AGENTS SELL TICKETS VIA THE NORTH-WESTERN. 

Denver Office, 8 Windsor Hotel Itlock. 

San Krancise i ( fflre, 2 Now Hont^mery St. 
Milwaukee Office, 1«2 Wiiconsin Street. 


Kew York Offlee, 409 Broadway 
Boston Otffre, & State Street. 
Minneapolis Offlee, 18 Nicollet House 


Chicago Office, 62 Clark St. 
Omaha Offlee, 1411 Famnm St. 
St. Paul Offlee, 159 E. Third St. 


R. S. Hair, General Passenger Agent, CHICAGO, ILL. 




\ 






-7 


J> y 

I>'‘::’ S> . 

r> rH'T^ 


-->. . - 
"TI> ^ > 
:>"r>">^ "Z 

: >:> 5 ■ 


3>>;.--^..- ^y~S i z>^:5> > .\y> 

>-^'>>>V:' ' >-!> ?)> 

:y>:>:> '-^>:>‘2>^ » VV;. 


-o 

>3)> ,• > 

>y> j o 

>.->-> -^ :.> 

' > 

► 1> :> O 

-5>^ . > > 


>>> 


>> > ' 




3>j^. ! >_:> ._3> J> V 

3t> ■> .>r/> - '^' 

y 'J> 3 'i. r> :--»• 

;;;,> ■ ■>„’'i* VO ' s> 7> '>'^'V> ' 

.’ rit> VO 3 ' v»3 >:i 

-3..^ 2> 3 ~'V’ 

“> ■ >1^ JO r-^3 ? :i:> o : 

■'■ 3''3::?:> ig>J3 ■■>'•> 

' ■ .33 :?:3 '3 : .::i''> ■ 


3>JS> 

;3^'>:2r^ 

'S?> >> 

>^ J> ^ 

2> ;z> 
» .» 

:>>>> 

> A3> 
'> 

>•> ^ 

>> » 
»>•;>> 




v:' 


, ^ 


►3 -^^3: 


■-> -» ^ 


— — 

. > 


'H » * 


>:£!> 


t>^ 


.j> >>_J> ^ 
I>:>^ '_'3> 

i» >»'s> 'r> '> 

s> > ■;::> >^ 

•: > j3fc 

^> ■» :>> ’ 33 'T5''^> 
» >33:5> , 

> > 5^^ 33SS> 

> >. >:> ■5> 3 V.r.3j^> 

3;:2» 

S» ■>' O'TJI* ;53 ::> 

3BS* ■> >':» 33 

> o 3> > “53^ 
> 3 5> 3.'^JvO>> 

(Bt- > > O- 3 > . 03>S> 

Xf >33^ X>,.3 35:i> 

^ > >' . T> 


>o> 




s. ^x> 


>-y- 

- - 
ST';; 

iX 
. ^ 

'*.J^ •^’ ^ 
•* 

• V^, 






'>y » 


yj iN 


y 


',3 
■ , 

y rr 




>■ 5>- 

3 > 


> > 


a 

t> .' > 


i> :ab» 

>' > . :: 

>'• >> 

>■' '!> 

> » .'.^ 


-•• 3 > 




‘ >J>3" 

■> 3) 3 
>) >■> ' =~ 

» 3) 3 

>3 3 3^^ .3 3^ 

3> 3 V 3 3 > 

' S> 35 3 

:>^ >> > > > 3> » 

^ X>,.3 3353> >■> 33 

.:>' .0 

»■> 33 t>'‘K>'> • '"•>:> 

3 '3 3'I!X>» . ;» J>3 

3 3 3'>>> J3 > 03 
'>>^303». J.. 3 ) .>:3 

>^>>"_ . >:>'>y 


>'>> 
y r> 


9 . \ 


> >•*' ’‘>>r^> ’ v 

' y^y>y[ 

> ^^rys» 

. . . 'y 


> 


y 3>3 7> 

^ >>3 

■3 . • 




' . ' , , ‘ . ft ' * t > J t * • •* ** ' ‘ ^ * s • • 7 . . • ' - • i’* 

' / . • / - ^ !-V , w I t! •> 

*^6.* •••-.'••••.• I - %*»»'*^*«^***,. 

‘ I • vj '/t t fi- W • 


LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


□ODEEbHHOa? 



*•?»♦•■%*•#* '••i »**• A. ^ ^ •** •* * • * f ' * ^ ^ * * 4# 4 »»^ •« 

.»•■» .*•• .* •*• •• •*•* * 4 ' ** » •••#• • ^ * . *»• (♦r . . 

^ • J r 4 ft ^ ^ 4 • • ' r * 4. * 1, ft '..,*/ • . • • • ' V * . ' • . • f » * — < * # ' ' . > ^ 

.; ..• * ^ ‘ ‘ ' • ft • " ^ • t' ; / ///^ 


